


I see you

by psychesmoon



Series: Who We Are (and who we want to become) [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Case solving, Connor is In The Know but ignores it, Connor just can't catch a break, Hank is in denial, Hank is trying but he still has a rough time in patches, Humor, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multiple Perspectives, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pop Culture, Slow Burn, bit of Violence, literally the slowest burn i'm sorry, lots of swearing, low-key flirting disguised as deep convos, mostly references, philosophical conversations, sass is back in town and it won't take any prisoners, yet again you've been warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-08-16 16:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 160,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16498760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychesmoon/pseuds/psychesmoon
Summary: ‘Am I going to lose you?’ Hank heard himself ask, the guilt instantly flushing back into his chest again.Connor didn’t say anything at first, just blinked, then blinked again, but his eyes were still steadily focused on Hank.‘If it depends on me, then no. You won’t’ he said eventually and relief washed across Hank, making the previous guilt disappear. For exactly 5 seconds, before Connor opened his mouth again and decided to burst his bubble ‘but I can’t guarantee that other people won’t try to interfere with that decision of mine’Hank scoffed at that, dry and heavy. Realistic. Same old Connor.Well, that was still the closest thing to the truth, probably. And that’s what he wanted to hear, right?Except no, that was not at all what he wanted to hear, not even close to it.





	1. Whatever happened to Hank Anderson?

**Author's Note:**

> (If you stumbled upon this and haven't read Looking for yourself: I guess you can technically maybe possibly read this fic without reading that first, but I wouldn't advise it, because 1, there's a lot of character development happening there that carries onto this one 2, I make constant references to the events of that 3, LFY is good, I .....promise? dfjuzgz
> 
> Now to you people, who've been here for a while:  
> First of all I want to say thank you to all of you for waiting, and encouraging me to continue this story, I love you and appreciate the heck out of you, you are the butter to my knife and I'm not sure if that's a saying but it is now because I don't have anything else I could express my gratitude with!!!! <3
> 
> Also. About updates: They will come. Pretty regularly, but I will definitely not be as quick as I was with LFY, uni being in the way and all. But at least the chapters are gonna be longer this time!!!! (also I'll still probably end up updating this weekly so there's that)
> 
> Anyway, and now here's 16 pages of me talking about Hank, because I love him and I love you and you all need more Hank in your lives, it's the doctor's order.  
> It's really good to be back y’all, I love you, hope you'll enjoy reading my second child too! <3
> 
> [cws for this chapter: very negative self-talk, negative self-image, alcohol abuse, suicidal thoughts, tragedy, mental recovery and therapy, one gross sexual comment (it's from reed) (who would've thought), this chapter is a lot emotionally, but it ends on a good note]

’I’m tellin’ you, something’s goin’ on’ Gavin Reed’s voice came out muffled from behind the coffee cup he had lifted to his mouth ’the guy’s been a mess, didn’t give one shit about the department, never saw him past 12 pm on a _good day_ and now he’s in all the time and bosses us around like it’s normal’

He was leaning on the bar table in the cafeteria, next to no other than Tina Chen, who was more than willing to accompany him in bitching about one of Reed’s favorite topics. How shit Hank Anderson was, precisely.

‘I think it has something to do with that plastic Detective, he got all soft for it for some reason and now he’s all up in our asses about these fuckin’ android cases’ Chen replied, closing her tablet and putting it down on the table to stretch her arms.

‘Bullshit, I tell ya. Before all this shit dude couldn’t even show up at the fuckin’ crime scene without smellin’ of booze and then what, a plastic computes a smile at him and he suddenly cares? Something must be going on in the background of this. I just feel it’ he said, while glancing at Hank through the glass walls. He was sitting at his desk, looking through the terminal and noting things on a piece of paper. Focused. Motivated. Unbothered.

What the actual fuck, indeed.

‘At least he looks sober now, you know? We actually have a Lieutenant now and that makes work easier, even if he’s preachin’ for all that shit’

To that, Gavin scoffed so loud he almost spilled a bit of his coffee.

‘I’m here working my ass off for 3 years and I get nothin’, then that asshole decides to bend a finger and suddenly he’s _the_ shit and he gets all the praise in the fuckin’ world’ he spat, clearly frustrated beyond words.

‘Only ‘cause Fowler lets him get away with everything’ Chen shook her head and Gavin mimicked her movements involuntarily.

‘Bullshit’ he expressed, while downing some of the coffee from his cup. He was biding his time, not having any motivation himself to sit down on his ass and write up the case that they just finished working on with Hank. Which was originally _his_ case, which he had already solved by the way (android damaged beyond repair, which of course meant that it was a simple property damage case, at least in his mind) before Hank decided to butt in and call him out for discrimination or some shit. He called the case ‘a homicide’. ‘First-degree murder’ even.

And when Gavin refused to label the case as such, all hell broke loose.

Anybody who knew Gavin for more than 2 seconds, knew that he hated being told off. And that he hated being one up-ed even more.

And well, when they were standing in front of the Captain’s desk, arguing about how the case should’ve been actually handled, Hank did both and he did it well. So well, that the Captain sided with him and all of a sudden Gavin found himself having to pick that case back up again to work on it with no other than Hank. Because apparently the universe really wanted him to kill a dude.

And while they worked on that case, they somehow managed to start hating each other even more than they used to. Before all of this, at least they had one common ground: their hate for androids. Now, that they didn’t even have that, they basically became public enemies.

Well, not that they were loud about it. Well, _Hank_ wasn’t loud about it, he maybe shot him a sarcastic comment or two, but he never attacked him, not upfront. Called him a dick once or twice but that was just every day slang for him. He never actually attacked him verbally, though.

Gavin was the exact opposite. He _lived_ off of confrontation, because that was the only thing he knew he could always win at. But the fact that Hank never engaged with him and still always seemed to win at their fights just with being the bigger person and walking away... that aggravated him.

Well, there _was_ one time, when he couldn’t get away with saying whatever the fuck he wanted, though. Just that week, he went a bit too far. Maybe. Possibly.

Thing was, he shit-talked Connor and he should’ve known that that won’t land him at a good place, especially with the Lieutenant, it never did. But this time he wasn’t even _trying_ to shit-talk Connor, at least not exactly him, but he still somehow ended up… insinuating things which were very much not his place to even _mention_. Nothing about what he said was okay, but when was it ever?

But still, the minute this one specific thing left his mouth he knew that he had made a mistake and he was going to get his ass-beaten to the ground for it. And it would’ve been fair, he thought to himself, but he would’ve never actually admitted to feeling that way.

It all happened when they got back in the car and were about to drive back to the station from the victim’s house. The victim was obviously an android and, well, his girlfriend and lifepartner also happened to be one. And just that fact alone, that they were apparently questioning an _android_ already made Gavin irritated, because to him this all felt like they were talking to a walking-talking laptop. And they were asking _it_ about a murder. Like any of that mattered. Like this wasn't just a big ol' game of make-believe, where he was supposed to just accept that thing was crying their eyes out 'cause it was truly sad.

The fact that he had to listen to that pathetic attempt, was what was sad, he thought.

And so after they did their job, packed their things up and Hank was about to start the engine, Gavin of course couldn’t shut his mouth and voiced his opinion rather loudly. And god knows why he thought that was a good idea, but he was still quite surprised when Hank put him to his place, saying that if he didn’t shut up, he’d make him, then called him out for ‘talking shit, when there’s a woman grieving a loved one right in front of them’.

And that’s when he said the thing. Or more like _The Thing_.

‘What, you got the hots for these fucking things? Gonna protect all of them like you did with the robodetective? You're gonna suck _all_ of their dicks now?’

He, at first did not realize how that all sounded. He was going for a more of a metaphorical and generalized dick-sucking and not… trying to say that he thought that Hank had well… that he had already done that with Connor. He did not think that that even happened and did not want to get too personal about the insult, but he somehow got carried away and there he was, about to get beaten the fuck up.

And Hank did look at him like he was really going to punch him in the face and then bury him alive, but then he… he didn’t do that. Instead he attacked him with words. Which he had never really done before. He didn’t care enough to do that before.

‘Jesus _fucking_ Christ, you’re the nastiest fucking person I’ve ever had to put up with in my goddamn motherfucking life. Listen you asshole, I don’t give a shit if you hate Connor, or if you hate androids, but let me tell you one fucking thing: it doesn’t matter that you’re human, nothing excuses the way you fucking treat people. Yeah, Connor was a dick at times, maybe a lot of the times, but you know what Connor always did, that I'm starting to think you don't even have the ability to do? Connor _cared_. Even when he wasn’t even a deviant he still cared about other people’s feelings and he was still a lot more human than you will ever be, you disgusting soulless shit’

He wanted to hit him then and he _really_ wanted to pull his gun on him, but obviously he couldn’t do that, because Hank was still his superior and he would get fired the minute he even thought about assaulting him. If he got carried away he could’ve gone to jail too.

So he just scoffed and looked away, muttering a ‘whatever’, then didn’t say anything for the rest of the ride. But well, it all _did_ sting, because that whole monolgoue made him look like he was a bad person. And obviously he didn’t think of himself as a bad person. Nobody ever thinks that they are the one who’s in the wrong because we're all heroes in our stories. He was not a bad guy, that he knew about himself.

He had his reasons to hate androids, obviously. And he had his reasons to be a 100% sure that those things weren’t alive. But being called soulless? Like a machine? Him? A human??

Being told that an actual machine was more human than he was (and that already sounded like the most absurd thing on the whole planet for him) hit him across the face even harder than a physical slap would’ve.

That one really hurt. That one went right into his heart and got twisted around. He didn’t think anybody could ever think about him that way. He didn’t think anybody could say that to him and mean it that clearly.

That’s why he was talking shit about Hank that day, because that was the only way he could deal with this situation. The only way he could feel at least a bit of power was if he got confirmation that he was indeed in the right here. That he wasn’t actually the one who was the bad guy. Because Hank was the one who was the asshole, not him. Of course not him.

‘Man, with all this android integration shit going on I guess I gotta think of a plan B cause these fuckers are gonna replace us all in the end and then next thing you know you’re sleepin’ under the bridge’ Chen muttered, pulling him out of his thoughts.

‘Well, _I_ ain’t goin’ anywhere. Plastic can come back, I’ll fuck him right up’ Gavin promised, but Chen just started snickering at that, while she put her coat on, signaling that she was about to leave this conversation pretty soon.

‘Yeah, right. Next time try not to get your ass beaten in the process’

That got a long, angry groan.

 

* * *

 

Hank, before everything, was always hard-working.

Ever since he first started to perceive information and decode it, then said his first words and let the world know how his brain worked exactly, people knew that he was someone special, that he had a different way of thinking, a unique way of connecting dots to each other.

He was always the untouchable, perfect child who then, to nobody's surprise grew up to be the perfect student. Well, 'perfect'. With a still very detectable edge to him, that none of his teachers could really put their finger on. He was getting straight As, but then he also had an always present attitude that he was never afraid to use and he was brash and prone to do some dumb shit nobody else would've even thought of, so he was indeed kind of a mystery to everyone around, but despite that, there was one thing, they still knew to be a fact: this kid was something else.

And with always being remarkable, nobody was really surprised when years later, he graduated top of his class in the police academy too.

Everybody who had come his way knew, that he was going to achieve a lot. There was no doubt about that, there just wasn’t. Not when you go through school and training like you already know everything, like you were made to be on the force.

Another thing that most people figured out after knowing Hank Anderson for a while, was that beside his undeniable talent, and _despite_ his abrasive nature, as a person he was just _kind_. Simple as that. And sure, he was still a hard egg to crack, sure sometimes a bit too sarcastic and borderline rude, but it was always clear that he was also just a good person to his core.

Always looking out for people, engaging, making everyone feel heard. He only ever used his sarcasm to drive people to be better, to let them know there were expectations they needed to meet. Because he believed that people just needed a little push to find their confidence and really start doing well. And he was mostly always right.

And to top all that off, he was also a natural leader, always. But still, humble. He just wanted to do good work, help people who needed help and ensure that justice was served. He just wanted to keep the peace, make the world a better place.

And he truly believed that he can do that. That he could change the world.

He believed that his purpose in life was to, even if on such a small scale, be good and do good and make sure other people didn’t stray from that path of good either.

The only area that he was, well… lacking at, was certain... social skills. Like showing respect. Because respect came in a lot of different ways from him, but it was mostly never the right one.

It’s not that he didn’t respect people, of course he did, but he usually showed his respect by actions, like being loyal, always standing by the side of the people in question. But he was somehow still unable to show his respect with _words_ , though.

Thing is, he always got too over-familiar with people, and then he just couldn’t keep the formalities. He kept telling it to Fowler too, before he became Captain, that it all just felt fake to him, _Captain this, Captain that, thank you sir, no sir_. He wasn’t a machine; why did he need to talk like that?

Why couldn’t they talk like humans did? _I shit, he shits, what’s the fucking difference?_ Fowler shook his head at him a lot those days.

He tried though. He really tried, truly did, and people saw that and they usually warmed up to him fast.

Especially on the force after working with him for years, they really saw how truly good he was, just as a person. And while that was also important, what was maybe even more important was how _good_ he was at police work. Like, he was exceptionally good: he noticed things no one else did, he thought of things way faster than others and he carried out raids with the utmost efficiency the department had ever seen.

They all knew he wasn’t going to be a beat cop for the rest of his life. No, they knew he was going to keep climbing and never stop climbing the career ladder.

 _With the talent he has? He’ll be Commissioner in a few years_ , they said.

And well, they weren’t wrong, because pretty soon he did become the youngest Lieutenant in the history of Detroit, right after he made his biggest bust with the Red Ice Task Force. So yes, he was indeed climbing.

But honestly, for him it was never about the praise or having big ambitions or anything like that. He just liked the work. Liked doing it well. Liked how good it felt to do something good for the world.

That was it. He was a very simple man, in that sense.

But despite how much he loved his job, when he had his son, _he_ became the priority and therefore his career did stagnate for a while.

He was of course busy being a father. As anybody else would’ve been.

And he really felt like he had a perfectly comfortable life that way. A family of his own. A bit out of the ordinary, (his wife _did_ leave him not long after) but other than that, he really couldn’t complain. Cole was happy and so he was also happy. And that’s all that mattered.

Until that day came. Until he clicked the seatbelt on around Cole and started driving.

Until they were on the street, the snow heavy and the ice frozen.

The ice was frozen.

The truck coming up ahead of them did not expect that.

They did not expect the truck.

He woke up the next day to the gut-wrenching news that he was no longer a father. And ever since then, he never felt like he had ever actually woken up. Like he already died in the car accident and he was in the afterlife, just having a bad dream about trying to continue living with the fact that he killed his son.

His one and only son.

No, that couldn’t be reality, right?

But it _was_. And every time the thought crawled his way back into his head, it punched him right in the guts and made his hands go towards something that he could maybe call a solution.

Alcohol? Good enough.

Then he just spiraled and kept spiraling. Nothing stopped him from doing so and nobody seemed to really _want_ to stop him.

Maybe they tried, once or twice, but then they eventually always gave up. They weren’t used to him not being okay, after all.

Well, who could blame them, he was always okay before all of that shit. He was _Hank_ , for god’s sake, everyone else were the ones fucking their lives up while Hank was busy being the only one who always had it all under control. He _knew_ who he was, he never needed consoling, not even when his wife left him. He just stood up straight and kept walking. Always.

So they didn’t really know what to do with him in this situation and eventually ended up all just agreeing to trust him that he’ll figure it all out in the end. 

And he did figure it out. Oh, of course he did.

The plan was to die. Simple as that.

He was already supposed to die with Cole, it was just a freak accident that he survived and was still living, he decided.

But actually going through with that plan of his and pulling the trigger was something he was too much of a coward to do. So he killed himself a little bit every day instead, slowly, but surely. Waiting for the day it would finally happen, the day death would finally take him so he could be with Cole again. Or just be in fucking quiet, whichever was good, if it meant he didn’t need to get up every day anymore and act like it was okay, like life still had any meaning to him. Like life moved on.

Life never moved on for him. Every day he woke up with the knowledge that he was completely alone, so he drank to forget, to wake up to headaches instead and not the voice of somebody long gone.

_Dad, dad, dad, dad._

Dad, no more.

‘Mr. Anderson, we are so terribly sorry for what happened, we all loved Cole so much’ the week after the accident, the woman’s eyes were misty. He knew she was from the kindergarten and he also knew that he had never talked to her before. Never.

 _‘What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Shove it up my ass?’_ he remembered how he screamed at her and how much she cried then. _Bitch_. She didn’t have any right to cry about it, Cole was _his_ and his alone. Well, he was nobody’s anymore.

_Fuck you, God._

He spent a lot of time driving to secluded areas in the city, just getting drunk in his car, alone, talking to himself out loud, acting like he was talking to God, which always ended with him screaming and shouting and repeatedly hitting the steering wheel, not really hurting the car, just hurting himself, all while trying not to cry, and then somehow always succeeding. He knew Cole was gone forever, and he could never do anything to change that. So why cry? He was already weak and miserable, so he at least wanted to have that _one_ strand of control that was left in him, tight in his grasp. That was the only thing he had power over, though. Nothing else.

Especially the anger. That one he could never force away and after a while he wasn’t even trying to.

And it never changed. Three years went by and he still thought about that day every waking hour, three years and still, nobody cared enough to ask why he wasn’t in the station, why he smelled of booze every time, why he never showed up. Nobody cared. Nobody.

And after a while he didn’t even want anybody to care. It was better that way.

But well. That was until he was assigned a nosy dick of an android named Connor, whose actual mission seemed to consist of 1, Annoy Hank into insanity and 2, Follow him around until you will get the honorary title of a Simple Household Dog. And a lot of times he was violently working on getting both of those done at the same time.

But he wasn't just that. He was also the first person after such a long while, who wanted to get him out of his slump, who pushed him so determinedly, who was hell-bent on making him actually _try_ to live and do his fucking work for a change.

And it was like a slap on the face (one time a literal one), how many times he wished somebody just _cared_ , somebody just stayed around for him and went out of his way to get to know him, who listened. And then, jokes on him, he got an android, who was literally _designed_ to care about him. But he hated the fakeness of it all and he hated how he was aware that Connor was only doing the things he was doing because of his instructions. But despite all of that, he still felt himself falling for his act, still felt himself get attached, still knew that he was growing more and more worried about Connor every time he did some dumb and reckless shit.

He, of course, knew he wasn’t alive, but _damn_ , did it feel good to have Connor care for him, have him ask questions, with his dumb face so in-thought, trying to figure him out, insisting about his son, insisting about his drinking; all while looking so worried when Hank eventually always ignored him and downed another bottle because it felt right at the moment. And Hank knew it was all just a simulation, he _knew_. He was aware, he knew, he knew, he knew.

But.

Even if Connor was just _acting_ like he cared, running a program or some shit, that still shouldn't have mattered to him, as in, it _could’ve_ not mattered, it could’ve just been a minor detail about another random android Hank had to deal with, he could’ve just ignored his shitty attempts at trying to become friends with him and his even more terrible tries at small talk and everything else, he could’ve just ignored it all, it could’ve not mattered that he didn't _actually_ care.

If.

If Hank himself didn’t end up starting to care about Connor in the process. Because Hank wasn’t acting. Wouldn’t have been able to. He really did start to care about him. _Really_.

And maybe that’s why he, on that night, after he saw those two girls, no, androids, but no, _girls_ , those two, completely and desperately in love, so scared and just wanting to stay alive, just…

Maybe that’s why he pulled a gun on Connor that night. It was pure provocation. He was confused and he was hurting and Connor seemed to care so goddamn much, and he listened to him and he asked and asked and then talked and talked and Hank… he lost it at that moment.

_How dare you look like you care this much, you’re just a machine and I’m a dumbass and I think you really do care, but you don’t, I’m just imagining things and projecting humanity on this piece of plastic, because I’m fucked up and can’t think straight._

So he wanted confirmation. Confirmation that he was indeed just making it all up.

But then when he asked him, just simply _asked_ him if he was afraid to die, he didn't get the answer he was looking for (or maybe the answer he was actually dreading, who knew at that point). Connor could’ve just said no, could’ve just established that he was nothing more than just a machine, but still. He still didn’t do that.

Instead, Connor’s face shifted and he hesitated and he…

 _That_ was human. That was an emotion.

Fear.

‘I would certainly find it… regrettable, to be interrupted’ Hank remembered him say, his facade cracking just the slightest.

But it still cracked.

_You would? Why would you? You're a machine, why are you looking at me like that, why could I, even if only for just a moment, see someone in your eyes, someone real, someone alive? But that couldn’t have been real, ‘cause every other time I ever asked you, you said you weren't a deviant? Fuck, I need to drink. I mean think. With a drink in hand._

He left him there that night and he kept on leaving him on the days to come too, but Connor, despite everything, kept on following. He never gave up and it made Hank never want to give up either. Or at least he didn’t want to give up when Connor was around.

And after he saw that first drop of fear appear on him, he was starting to realize, that Connor had been showing glimpses of emotion all this time, before he inevitably shut himself back down. Just glimpses, but if a person put them all together, a pretty clear picture was starting to unfold about what was going on inside Connor.

Because despite his mission parameters, he had always chosen life over death, meaning that when it came down to it, he never killed anybody he didn’t need to. He always spared the androids they encountered, or if he didn’t, it was because he was trying to save somebody else. Like when he shot that deviant in the Stratford Tower, to save the humans standing around. To save Hank. Most probably.

And as the days went by, his decisions started to make less sense from a statistical point of view; they began to be less and less rational. At first he let that deviant with the pigeons go, to save Hank. Then he didn’t kill the two Tracis. Then he didn’t kill Kamski’s android.

And so many other little things that he did, so many things that he said, that all just pointed to one possible conclusion.

That Hank wasn't just imagining things. That deep inside, Connor _really_ did care. That it wasn’t all just an act. Maybe it _was_ in the beginning, but then it became something real, something that shouldn’t have been, but was.

He was human, Hank saw it from very early on. Connor just needed a bit of time to recognize that too, to really let himself see and accept it. And Hank could see all the little quirks he already had slowly but surely take over him, to make him fully-fleshed out, a person, living, breathing.

When he saw him again after he went to Jericho, Connor had figured out who he was too. Knew that he was more than just a machine. Knew, that he was alive.

Too bad they couldn’t really reunite and talk about what exactly happened, considering that Hank was busy being held at gunpoint by another Connor, a machine one, somebody who looked exactly like Connor and had his memories, but couldn’t have been further from the Connor who he knew, the Connor who grew to be the person that he was.

It was daunting. Seeing a machine Connor, who didn’t care at all, just holding the gun to his head like it didn’t matter to him, so vicious, so ready to kill, nothing like _his_ Connor, nothing like his partner, who chose to save _him_ instead of the revolution, like he was worth all that.

And obviously, when it came to that, and the tables turned and Hank was the one holding them at gunpoint, trying to figure out which one of the two was the fake one, he knew whatever he was going to ask from them, both Connors would know the answers to his questions.

That’s why he wasn’t looking for the right answers. He was looking for something _real_ , he was trying to find the person inside, in-between furrowed brows and twitches and eyes, somehow having depth where there wasn’t supposed to be any.

‘ _It wasn’t your fault, Lieutenant’_ one of the Connors said with his voice breaking ever so slightly. It wasn’t matter-of-fact. It was emotional. It was meant to reassure him, to make him feel better.

Hank had him at gunpoint, but to that Connor, reassuring him was still more important than trying to save his own life, or trying to have Hank kill the other Connor.

He wanted Hank to know, at that exact moment, that he had been thinking about that situation and he calculated every possible scenario, and counted with every variable: the weather, the car, the truck, the velocity, everything. And that he still came to the conclusion, that it wasn’t his fault and because what he said was factually correct, therefore he should believe him, because that’s only right.

And that was when Hank realized that he never actually had anybody tell him that before. Never had anybody try to take that pain off of his shoulders. Nobody.

Nobody, before Connor.

He knew exactly who the real Connor was then. The fake one couldn’t have understood the depth of any of that. Could never connect to him at such a deeply human level about something this personal.

Real Connor and him had a conversation with words, yes, but it almost felt like they were also having a completely different conversation, without words, just with emotions, Connor trying to express how much he cared, how much he truly understood. And Hank offering him his forgiveness. Well, not to him. To android-kind.

He told him that it was a human’s fault that Cole died. And yes, he did believe that, but that wasn’t what he was trying to say to Connor with that. What he was really saying was that he didn’t hold any grudges against androids anymore. That he saw how alive and good androids were, how alive and good Connor was and he was ready to move on from the resentment and watch the world grow into something else. Something better.

It almost felt like he had never actually shared anything about himself before that moment, like that was the first time in his life that he actually opened up to somebody, and saw them understand what he was trying to say. Saw them just simply _understand_.

And in that moment, Hank knew he was alive. As in, himself. Brought into this world by that conversation, guilt lifting off of his chest and he…

He felt awake and alive and there. After such a long time of just existing, he was alive again.

Connor didn’t just wake all those androids. He also woke him. God knows how, but he did.

They met up not long after and Hank really thought he was going to be able to bring him _home_ and never let him go again, because he was important, because he understood him, because he was the only one who could make him see that humanity still had a chance, because he was him and he… he needed him. Apparently he did and he was not about to let him go. Not now, not ever.

But he did need to let him go. Of course he did. He didn’t own him or anything like that and Connor was now a pivotal person in the revolution, so obviously he wouldn’t just sit around while others made decisions for him about his own life.

That wasn’t who he was. He was more of a ‘I’ll have my nose right up in everybody’s business, just in case’ kind of person. And Hank liked that about him. And he wouldn’t have had him any other way. But goddamn, why did it hurt so bad to hear him say that he was going to leave for a while? Why did it make his stomach drop and his throat tighten up so much?

But anyway, all of that was still worth it to see him so happy and so full of life, so goddamn fucking human.

It was all bittersweet, hushed voices and smiles, with the harsh fact of this all being a goodbye looming over them, poisoning the joy over knowing that they both somehow made it, that it was all going to be alright now.

But there was also something else in the air, something completely different lingering in-between them.

Maybe a promise? That this wasn’t going to be permanent, that he wouldn’t leave him forever, that he would come back, he just needed Hank to wait. To hold on. Just a little while longer.

And Hank knew he felt happy when he was with Connor again, he knew he was honest to god feeling good, but then when they ran out of time and Connor left, because he needed to, and Hank went home before going to work, and then sat at the kitchen table to eat something that could’ve been maybe called a breakfast, he knew that he was completely alone again.

But this time, he didn’t _feel_ alone. Weirdly so.

He went to work and Connor called him. And then after that Hank called him soon after and then they kept calling each other and that alone was a clear statement from both sides that they needed the other to be around. That they were important to each other.

And it was good to be reminded that he was just as important to Connor as he was to him. For whatever reason, he needed to get confirmation on that. For whatever reason, he cared a lot about what Connor thought of him.

And he wanted to do better. He saw what Connor was doing in the capital, the work, the big changes and all the care that went into everything he did. And Hank started to miss his own old self, the one who was so motivated and believed that he could change the world. The one who didn’t want to die, who never even thought about not living. The one who did work because he loved it. The one who kept going even when things were starting to get hard. The one who didn’t try to drink himself to death every night.

And after years of dangling on the edge of suicide, for the first time in a very long time he actually felt like maybe there was a point to this thing we mortals call a life.

So he made the decision to try to get better. This time for real.

But then the next night he found Cole’s picture again, tossed to the floor and just like that, there was the guilt again, the _I did this_ , and _I can’t ever be happy, I don’t even deserve it_ and he sat down to drink and got drunk, but at least this time the gun remained in his drawer and he didn't even think about getting it out.

And that night, there was a moment during his depressive episode, when he was lying around on the floor of the living room, barely conscious and barely even existing at that point, when Sumo bumped his big wet nose against his face, deciding that he clearly needed a big ol' licking action, which made him sit up immediately, not unconscious enough to ignore dog breath and drooling all across his face. But when he (with great hardship) managed to sit up and caught a glimpse of his own drunk ass in the reflection  of the TV's screen, something shifted.

He took one good look at himself and as he realized, that that was, without a doubt, himself, he froze for a moment, while he took it all in. Because that was who he, as a person had become. That was who he let himself become.

And who knew why then and there, but he decided, that he had enough. That this had all been going on for far too fucking long and that he needed to stop running, because that was not who he was, not who he wanted to be.

He wanted to maybe live now. He wanted to be around to see how the androids would change the world, make it better. He wanted to see what Connor was going to do with the world.

But the guilt seemed too deeply rooted and he wanted to live now, yes, but he didn’t feel like he could ever overcome this, ever fight it, because Cole was dead and he couldn’t live without him, that felt wrong, being happy without him felt ugly and awful and. Bad.

So even after that determined mental conversation, he still couldn’t stop the guilt from overcoming him again, but for the first time, at least he wanted to. That was a change.

And the next day he did what he never thought he would ever actually do and called up the medical center to schedule an appointment with a mental health therapist. He got one and it only took 50 seconds of talking on the phone. It was that easy. It took him 3 years to get there and it was that easy.

He felt like he was being dumb and naïve and that no amount of talking and shit would actually help him in the end, but he also kind of wanted to torture himself with doing this, because after 3 years of fucking around, he at least needed to try this, so if it was about to be pure shit at least he could say he tried it and it didn’t work.

But then the first time he went there, it was… progress.

He ended up full on bawling his face out, is what happened. And that was something that he never did before, not when Cole died, not during the initial grieving period, not ever. He never cried, but then sitting there and being told that it’s okay to be sad and that it was time for him to forgive himself, he just started crying like a baby in front of this very adult woman.

It wasn’t pretty. It was messy, it was harsh and it was all painful, but he needed to face the things that he had been running away from for 3 whole years. And he somehow felt lighter after stepping out of that place. Like for the first time it felt like all of this doesn't necessarily have to swallow him up in the end.

Like he could fight it, because there were actual ways of getting better.

While he was there, the therapist explained to him that all the problems that he was experiencing: the need to forget and therefore trying to find comfort in alcohol, the suicidal tendencies, the mood swings, it all derived from that very _guilt_ he felt upon what happened (like he didn’t already know that). And that that guilt was essentially the only thing that needed to be tended to, that needed to be worked on, because if the guilt could be controlled, then all the things he did to make the guilt go away would also eventually be something he could handle and be in charge of.

She said that to better understand the problem at hand, he should think of his guilt as an open wound that he never patched up: he never faced that feeling and never let it take over him even just a bit while it was healing. He never let it heal, he just shoved everything inside it instead, thinking that these things would fill it up: like drinking and lashing out at people and hurting himself. But his guilt didn’t want to be swept aside, it wanted attention. And so if he wanted that guilt gone he needed to become best friends with it first, and tend to it, make it feel heard.

She was convinced that the first step of doing that was for Hank to let himself cry. When he felt the guilt creep up, she advised him not to start drinking and run away from it, but to face it and feel it to the fullest and cry, scream if need be. Let the tears cleanse him. She also told him that this way he would probably get through these episodes a lot quicker than he usually did, when he simply drank himself into a coma.

And then when he was done with that, next step was to take care of himself after crying: taking note of what exactly made him feel the guilt, how he felt and why, what made him hate himself, so they could talk about that in therapy the next time he came around.

And then last step was to go to bed at a reasonable time, to try and build a healthy sleeping schedule, because she said, that it seemed to her that the episodes were strongly supported by the fact, that he usually got up later and therefore ended up being a lot more awake in the night, which let him start his self-hate session, which then led to drinking and so on.

He didn’t think he would ever say that, but he found that perspective very helpful. He kind of expected to go there and be told that he could never be helped, but the fact that she gave him tasks to complete and a way of targeting everything gave him hope that he could still be saved. Maybe.

So for the next week, he tried not to drink but to cry instead. And, well, at first he did slip up, when halfway through his depressive episode he couldn’t take it anymore and so he poured just one glass of whiskey for himself, but then of course he did end up drowning himself in all of that. Because when he drank one glass, there was nothing stopping him from downing the whole bottle.

Then the next morning this time there was even more guilt, and he felt so horrible, he literally swore off alcohol every two minutes because deciding to be better and then failing to actually do so made that one hangover not just feel worse, but made him feel like pure shit. So he decided to try again next time.

But that day that guilt was so powerful, he couldn’t even think anymore, it was like his body had a plan and he was just a vessel, carrying out whatever it decided to do.

And his body decided that it was time to cry.

It all happened when he stepped outside of his room and saw the destruction, the mess the whole house was in, the empty bottles sprawled across the floor. And that’s when he completely broke down and started crying right in the middle of his living room, experiencing the weight lifting off of his shoulders just a little bit, while he also just kept thinking to himself ‘ _what the fuck is happening to me?_ ’ throughout, because he actually couldn’t control his body anymore, it seemed like.

It was like somebody opened a tap that couldn’t be closed anymore. He continued to cry while he locked the front door, cried all the way to work and only then talked some sense into himself to at least stop crying while he was at work which he somehow did, powered through the whole shift without even looking anybody in the eye and without shedding a tear.

At the end of the day he thought it was all done, he got in the car, drove home, it was all alright, it seemed. He felt kinda numb and like he was already dead, but well, at least the crying was over, right?

Wrong. Because the minute he got home, and Sumo bumped his big head against his leg, he started crying again. Just like that.

And for a while he just accepted that that was happening and that he couldn’t really do anything anymore to stop it, but then all of a sudden he got angry, because he felt guilty even about crying too, like there was a part of him that was trying to get rid of something inside him, cleanse him of everything, but there was another part of him trying to keep all of that in, wanting himself to suffer.

He hated it, he wanted everything to stop, but didn’t have the energy to make it stop, so he just laid around on the floor with Sumo curled up at his side and he let himself wallow in it. He let the guilt swallow him up.

_Yep, I’m a piece of fucking shit, we all know that here in this house, he died, I’m alive and that’s not fucking fair, I should just die, I agree, but I have to live. I just have to, I had three years of trying to kill myself, didn’t work, so let’s just fucking try this shit called living now, it sounds fucked up but I’m always a sucker for fucked up shit so why not try? I know I don’t deserve it, but well, I still have it so I guess I’m stuck here now. It’s shit but it’s the shit that’s happenin’ so that’s that._

After being home, it took him almost 3 hours to finally stop himself, but then at around 9 pm, he did stop and he somehow felt a lot lighter and like he was a functional human again, who was just simply tired after a whole day of work and was ready to have a good night’s sleep. He even laughed to himself at that, how it only took crying and feeling miserable for a while to get out of the devil’s circle.

The next time he saw the therapist, he had a lot of notes to read from. He had come to the conclusion that what made him drink was the fact that every time he got home, he felt alone and started thinking about why exactly he was alone and he eventually always got to thinking about Cole and how he would never come back and that fact was the one thing he couldn’t quite process and it made him do stupid shit just to forget about the guilt and forget about reality just for a moment.

But. But after several days of trying to face the guilt he found that maybe it was getting easier and easier and that he was maybe kind of processing that fact and living with that. Maybe.

And when he said that, the therapist smiled at him so nice and so caring, it reminded him of somebody else for just a moment. Somebody else with caring eyes like that.

He also told her that he wasn’t as afraid of the guilt anymore, because he now knew that the worst that could happen was that he would lie face down on his bed crying with snot and saliva all flowing together, wailing like an adult baby.

But the crying felt like it was also just a way of making all of those emotions leave his body, just like how they also left when he was being aggressive or just simply an asshole to people, because he did live out the anger and the guilt that way, except those weren’t very healthy coping mechanisms.

Crying was decidedly better.

And about his everyday life: everything was starting to become easier. A lot. He went to work at a reasonable time and did do his work, now with newly found motivation to try and help androids be treated the way they were supposed to be. And he helped them. Because he could.

He made life better for them. He was part of something important. He was changing the world, even if only on this small scale.

And also, talking to Connor was a good distraction too. Although, it was a bit different now. There was more weight to the conversations, and he had to balance Connor out at times when he was spinning on a 1000 miles an hour, processing and making decisions, making even himself confused.

But he liked being helpful and feeling like he wasn’t the only one who needed help, out of the two of them. And Connor appreciated his help too, he knew that.

The first time Connor told him he missed him, Hank’s own chest did flutter a bit because hearing that simple sentence felt too good, being that important to somebody was kind of unimaginable but also really good and so he wanted to say it back. For real. 

But then he said it back, but not for real. He joked around, like it was funny, like it was not a big deal.

But it was a big deal. A very big deal.

He knew he was starting to get really attached. Like, really attached. Like, ‘I can’t stop thinking about you’ kind of attached.

He caught himself multiple times a day, daydreaming about what they were going to do when Connor came back from the capital. Like, what movies he needed to show him, which places of the town he definitely needed to bring him to, how it would feel like to finally go to work together again and so on.

But mostly, he just imagined them talking. Like when he got in the car in the morning he imagined him getting in there with him, ready for work, or while he was sitting in front of the terminal, he imagined him sitting there on the other side, at the other desk, working.

 _His_ desk? His desk.

But he knew that that couldn’t be normal, the fact that he was thinking about him this much and the fact that he found himself awaiting the next call, the next message, the next TV appearance, anything just to see him, just to hear him.

He saw the interview and he couldn’t stop looking at him, at the slight changes of him. And then Connor even mentioned Hank and his heart was jumping up and down in his throat and okay, that was too much, why was that _that_ exciting? And why did he get this happy about it?

But then the bubble all burst when he called him a bit later to tell him that he appreciated what he said, because then somehow… he was weird. Different. Distant.

Told him he needed to go, and there was a bullshit reason, he could tell immediately. Told him he would call him back later.

He didn’t call him back later.

And it all hurt, it hurt too much for it to be okay to feel this way.

And there wasn’t even anything to really feel bad about. He was busy, of course he wouldn’t be able to talk all the time. It made sense, but he still somehow wanted him to be there, to care again, to tell him about his day, to _want_ to share. He wanted to be important again.

But he accepted that Connor apparently didn’t feel as... strongly about him as Hank did. Whatever that meant. It was all nothing. Well, it was everything, but also, if Connor didn’t feel _that_ much, then it could be all nothing. As in, he could make it all nothing, no problem, just give him a few days he’ll repress it well enough so it would definitely look like it was indeed nothing.

But the thing is, when you repress one thing, other things start to resurface again. Other things, that you didn’t feel bad about for a while which will now definitely get to you again. And that’s exactly what happened here too.

Days went by and he tried to ignore it all, but then one night he got home and suddenly he was back on his shit; with only a step inside the cold, dark house realizing that he was alone again, and the guilt came back and then he started thinking about what he and Cole did on quiet night's like that one, making himself remember that they won’t ever be able to do _anything_ together anymore, never play that dumb game he liked so much, never read from that one fucking book he always fell asleep to, and as the guilt started to swallow him up again as an impulse decision he drove away into the woods with nothing, no phone, no drink, not even his driver’s license.

And then he just listened to heavy metal on full volume, generating a crying session every time a sad song came up and it was easy and wallowing in it again somehow felt good and he found that that episode took a lot less time and he was okay after a short while. The therapist did tell him before, that the more he would face his feelings and the more he let them get processed, eventually he’d find that the guilt would leave sooner, and with every episode, the time it spent there would shorten significantly.

And yeah, the guilt was gone. But everything else was, too.

He drove home feeling absolutely nothing other than tiredness, went to sleep and didn’t think about anything anymore. He was numb, there were no feelings left.

Then the next morning he continued not thinking about any of that, he was just doing okay, not the best, but definitely okay. He saw Connor on the news when he got to the station, and he did stop in the middle of the room just so he could make sure he wouldn’t miss any moment of seeing him, but then when that was over he just continued walking and made sure he didn’t let himself start daydreaming again. And then he just carried on doing that the following days.

But all in all, despite the Connor drama he was having, with days and weeks going by, he was getting better. Truly, honestly. He told the therapist how fucking insane it felt that he was being a dumbass for years and then all it took for him to get better was to pay a woman to tell him to go and cry and that was it.

She told him that while yes, he definitely needed professional help to help him through the transition, this, the way he pulled himself together, was truly remarkable. That she never had a patient before, who managed to transform their lives so quickly. So while starting therapy was no doubt very important for his recovery, most of the work he got done emotionally and mentally was still on him so, and she made sure she emphasized this quite clearly so he couldn't misunderstand: he should be proud of himself.

And of course, because he was Hank and he couldn't take compliments for the life of him, instead of actually being proud of himself he just ignored that comment and shrugged.

He had something to get better for now, he told her, with a dry smile attached to that confession. But it was still true. Even if the person who made him want to get better in the first place had been ghosting him for a week and a half.

Because make no mistake: he didn’t start his recovery because of the revolution.

Well, maybe a part of him needed that push of motivation, yes, but that wasn’t the main reason he wanted to get better.

 _Connor_ was the main reason.

And whatever was going to happen in the future, even if he left forever and Hank would only see him on TV from now… then that was shit and it hurt, but if that was what Connor wanted to do, then fine.

He was still the most important person to him, and that fact nobody could ever change. Not anyone, not even Connor himself.

 _He_ changed his life, and nobody could undo that. Not anymore.

At the therapists’ they also talked about the next steps. Firstly, it was important, that when the guilt evaporated and he just felt numb, he would still not let himself start drinking, instead treating himself to something else, something that he really liked but never actually bothered making.

And that’s how he ended up stocking away 2 liters of lemonade every morning, like a fucking soccer mom with 5 kids or something.

The most important thing was, she said, for him to start planning for the long run. People with suicidal tendencies tend to engage in activities that are harmful, because they just assume that they wouldn’t be on Earth for long enough to suffer the consequences, so what does it matter? Well, Hank has got to live now, so he needed to act like it: for example stock up on fresh food, try eating some veggies, cook instead of eating pure shit.

He did admit to her then that he was very self-conscious about the weight that he’d put on and that he had been thinking about going to the gym after work maybe twice a week. Maybe.

She, like the not-so-secret actual mama hen she was, almost ended up crying when he suggested that; telling him while blinking the tears away, that yes, that would be a great idea and that she was very proud of him for taking that step.

He would’ve never told her this, but he was actually really thankful for her and that he genuinely loved her a lot. For caring, for giving good advice, for being this enthusiastic.

And yeah, he was getting better. He didn’t drink, he could look at Cole’s picture again without wanting to die and he was even motivated to do work too. He was eating healthier and actually gave a shit about his body and exercised here and there.

But something still didn’t let him enjoy life to the fullest. Something was missing and he was trying to ignore it, but then one night he couldn’t anymore. Because whatever he said about how he didn’t care if Connor was going to leave forever, was a straight up lie. Because he did care. He cared _so_ much. And he wanted him back, he wanted him to call him again, wanted to hear from him, and then that night he just spiraled down again because of his own misery and complicated feeling and so.

As a sudden maybe dumb, maybe actually very clever and forward thinking decision, he called Connor. Right in the middle of his depressive episode. Because he couldn’t not. Because he couldn’t just accept that he was just going to ignore him and never talk to him again.

But then when Connor picked up, he found himself unable to actually talk. He just… he didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted him to be the same is what he wanted. He wanted him to care again. Everything was too quiet that night and he needed him to fill that quiet again, but that seemed like too much of a selfish thing so he just sat there, not saying anything.

But Connor somehow made it alright. He somehow turned it all around and made it okay. Told him he didn't want to stay in the capital forever. Told him he wanted to live with him. Well, he didn’t really tell him that. He _hinted_ at it. But it was clear, at least Hank understood what he was trying to say with all of that.

And after that talk he felt so dumb for thinking for even just a second that Connor didn’t feel the same. That Connor would just leave and forget about him.

Of course he still cared. Of course he wanted to come back. Of course he wanted to be there with him.

He wanted that confirmation _so_ bad and the fact that he actually got it felt like his entire body had been resurrected from the dead. Because he really did have something to live for now. To wait for. To hold on for.

Connor was coming _home_.

He had to be there to see that. To see him again.

And he did believe that that truly was what Connor wanted, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that he was starting to slowly feel like he really didn’t deserve all of this. The late night phone calls, those words of reassurance, him caring so much. He didn’t feel like it was okay to accept all of that from Connor, even if he was giving everything willingly.

But anyway, he was just glad that he didn’t plan on leaving. That he wasn’t actually ignoring him, that Hank probably just made that up to torment himself. Good thing he called Connor to clear that all up. Well, he did that a week and a half later, but at least he did it.

Better late than never, as the saying goes.

He originally didn't plan on ever doing that, but then he somehow still ended up talking about Connor at the next session with the therapist. That day he took up most of his time just talking about him and about the fact that he was basically the sole reason he wanted to start living again, then after he was done with that whole monologue he got himself into another one, thinking out loud about how the phone calls made him feel just so plainly and simply _good_ , because it just felt fucking great to know that Connor looked to him for reassurance, that he trusted him enough and that he used up most of his free time just to talk to him, and just.

Whenever they talked, he knew he was going to be okay for the night. Because Connor kept him level headed, he kept him from spiraling back into guilting himself. He was always okay then. Not just okay, he was _good_. He never wanted a drink then. He was just functional. His old self.

He also went on to say that Connor, although was a confused puppy half the time and the other half an actual full-blown dick, he still had a sort of calming energy to him.

Or maybe that only existed in Hank’s mind, because for him just the fact that Connor knew about everything that happened to him and that he knew him better than anybody else and saw right through him was maybe why he felt so calm, like he didn’t need to think about Cole in those moments, because with Connor it always felt like those things were in the past and that being understood on both sides, there really was no point in saying anything more about it.

Because it was all done. It was all done, and they were living in the present, where they could both breathe and live and just exist before they got back to whatever work they had to get done that day.

When he was done with speaking, the therapist looked at him with such a gentle kind of motherly softness in her eyes, he really knew then that he probably had been talking for far too long and that maybe he said a bit too much and actually, come to think of it, shouldn't have ever even said a word in the first place.

She didn’t make fun of him though, it was the complete opposite: she told him that she very well welcomed this sort of progress and that she also sincerely felt like Connor had a very good presence in his life, because to Hank he very clearly was the one person who represented a possible future where he’s alive and over his grief.

He made sure to tell her about the new guilt he'd been experiencing lately, though. Because the guilt he felt about Cole of course didn't completely leave, it was there even if now in a muted form, but there was also something else adding to the guilt now: the fact that he felt like he was being clingy and needy because he straight-up _needed_ the phone conversations, they made him feel good and okay and he, for some dumb and weird reason really needed Connor as a whole to just be there.

But he also didn’t want to hold Connor back or anything, because he was well-aware that he was special and that life had a lot in stock for him. And that he deserved better than to watch over a depressed old man for the rest of his life. And that's what made him feel guilty again: because he needed him, but he knew he was doing something bad with feeling that way.

And well, Connor did already tell him that he wanted to come back, but still, he didn’t believe that that was actually going to be good for him. Maybe he didn't trust that Connor knew what was going to be good for him.

That’s when the therapist did something that she never did before. She pulled her glasses off of her face and put her notes down on the table, face serious as she leaned forward just a bit.

‘I think you can trust Connor’s judgement that if he says he wants to come back to you, then he probably knows that to be true. Think of it this way: being an android, he probably computed every possible scenario in his mind already about what decision would hold the best possible outcome for him, and with that in mind, he still concluded that this path was the one he wanted to go down on. So respect his decision and know that he is intelligent enough to know what’s best for him. Just because he happens to be an android it doesn’t mean you needing him has any bad connotation to it, there’s nothing wrong with you relying on him emotionally as long as he can rely on you too, but that seems to be going just fine, so I don’t see any problem with this situation. You both need each other. Of course, you could continue without the other, but you don’t _want_ to. And that’s the key to this’

 _I don't want him to go,_ that sentence kept repeating in his mind and it didn’t want to go away, it seemed.

And he did want him back, and he did want him there, next to him. He wanted him to stick around. To continue pestering him about shit. To tell him all about his thoughts and feelings. To continue to trust him and care about him. To let him care for him too, in turn.

But that was scary, because when you get attached, it hurts even more, when you lose them. He knew that one from experience.

But with Connor, he wanted to try again, maybe. He wanted to let him in.

He wanted to live.

They both did.

Maybe together, they might actually succeed at that.

Maybe together it won't feel so hard.

Maybe together it might actually be quite simple.

Who knew?

Well, they were definitely about to find out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank: there's nothing that could make me want to live again, nope, i'm a done deal, case closed, gun loaded, mind made up.  
> connor: hello! my name is connor!!!! i'm the android sent by cyberlife!!!!!  
> hank:  
> connor:  
> hank: maybe.... maybe i'll stick around for just a bit  
> *5 days later*  
> hank: shit


	2. We only part to meet again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title of this chapter is a quote by a person called John Gay and that's entirely on purpose because I'm gay and these cops are too and that's all I have to say about this.
> 
> [actually, no, it's time for some cws: mildly detailed description of a murder, and actually, you know what? that's all]
> 
> also, disgustingly romantic song that makes a cameo in this: www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrK5u5W8afc

Connor, after looking at the outside world through the unnaturally clean window of the taxi he was sitting in for the past half an hour or so, had to stop for a second and admit to himself that he was expecting much, much worse.

He didn’t even really know what exactly he expected to see, but what he actually saw was just… normal. Nothing had really changed in Detroit while they were gone. Or more like, everything seemed to be as calm as it was before the revolution happened. Maybe even calmer.

Humans were settling back in, realizing finally that there was no actual threat in the city so they could just go on with their lives, like nothing had happened. But there were definitely a lot more androids around too, blending in with the humans left and right. And it was normal. The new normal. Their new normal.

And as he was going home for the first time in his life, that clear peace surrounding the familiar grayness of the city, he felt a lot lighter knowing that things were going well and nothing crumbled while they were gone playing politician.

And well, about that… he parted from the gang exactly 20 minutes after their plane had landed. It was all weird, being at one place and then suddenly not being there anymore, being miles and miles away from there. His body and also his mind definitely needed a bit of time to get used to the fact that he was back home again.

They fought their way through suspicious guards (who didn’t quite want to believe that they were indeed ‘those Androids from TV’, saying dumb shit like ‘but the press conference just aired on Channel 4! How can y’all guys be here already?’, followed by Connor angrily lecturing them about how time and space works, while also going on a lengthy tangent about just. Planes. To airport security guards. But that, somehow still wasn’t enough though, so then he, very unprofessionally, but quite effectively, pulled rank and threatened to report them to their superior, dropping names and connections left and right as if he wasn’t just lying his ass off, only getting the name of their supervisor and boss off of the database. But that at least got them out of the line so they could proceed on their way out of the airport) and then the nosy journalists, who just really wanted to get a piece of them in the last few seconds they were still in public.

So, trying to ignore these people and cameras all around them, they said their quiet goodbyes, then Simon, Markus and North got in a taxi to go to Cyberlife and finally get started on working on the actual future.

‘Good luck’ Connor told them, as genuine as it comes, as he stepped away from the car window and was finally ready to let them go.

‘Don’t get too lost in the Lieutenant’s eyes, call us!’ he remembered Simon’s last words, a fairly loud shout at him, which immediately made him very embarrassed, to say the least, especially with the journalists eating that shit up right away and were already starting to ask their very personal and quite obscure questions about Hank and him.

So he did what any sensible person would do in this situation: made a rushed 180 degree turn and threw himself into another taxi, more than ready to just go and never look back. To get away from the public eye and from all these questions and politics and whatever.

He wanted to be done with that, it was already all going on for far too long.

And now, he was finally on his way to Hank’s house. And just then, after he had left all the confusing feelings and the flying and the press behind, had he realized that he had genuinely forgot to call Hank about his arrival. Didn’t even feel like he had the energy (or something??) for that.

Androids weren’t supposed to forget and he was sure that he didn’t actually forget it, as in, not in the way a human would. But he did push that task further and further down the list of things he had to do and now here he was, only now being faced with the fact that it was probably too late to do anything about that failed mission, considering that he was just 2 minutes away from arriving to his destination.

He hoped that that would be fine, though. They _did_ talk about him coming home in the near future, so Hank would probably anticipate him either way.

But there was no time for thinking anymore, because the taxi suddenly stopped and the door opened, a rather violent way of letting him know he had to leave the car, because they had arrived.

So he got out and while the self-driving taxi drove off behind him, he straightened his suit and realigned his tie quickly.

And when he looked up at the house to take it all in again, that’s when he got nervous. Although, there was no reason to be, it was early afternoon, the probability of Hank being at work was at a 99.4%, he knew that, and if that fact wouldn’t have been enough, there was also a little post-it-note left for him on the door, with Hank’s messy writing:

‘ _If you’re back early and forgot to call me, then f you’_

And then under that, another sentence, a little less messy than the first one:

 _‘Welcome back, there’s a key you-know-where (if not, find it Robodetective)_ ’

He smiled to himself at that, then proceeded to stick his hand under the doormat to acquire the key, which he did pretty quickly. He wondered if that spare key was going to be _his_ key from now on. There was a good chance of that being the case and that definitely warmed his heart in a strange, strange way.

The minute he clicked the key into place and twisted, he could tell that the rattle made Sumo quite excited, well, judging by the low barks coming from the inside of the house.

That was a good feeling too, being awaited, being missed.

Even if Sumo was probably not waiting for _him_ exactly, he thought, but then he had to scratch that thought the minute he stepped inside because Sumo continued to be just as excited as he first sounded like, greeting him with standing in his way and drooling all over his leg.

He pushed his massive body back inside, trying to get himself and his luggage in there too, but Sumo, while wagging his tail furiously, still didn’t move one bit.

And Connor, kind of overwhelmed by all of that forceful love, pet him on the head a couple of times, hoping a little bit of attention might make him a bit more cooperative. And indeed that seemed to be all that Sumo really wanted and when he did get it he stepped aside and sat down, still watching Connor’s every move.

He managed to bring his luggage in in one turn and sat it down right there in the middle of everything, turning back to close the door, because he was already letting in too much cold.

Or, if we want to get scientific about it, because we know that heat is the one that travels to colder places, and not the other way, it was more accurate to say that he was letting the heat out into the cold.

But anyway, point is, he closed the door.

And as he was about to pick his luggage back up and sort himself out, he caught a glimpse at Sumo still looking at him, sitting at the side, waiting for more pats and when Connor returned his stare, he started wagging his tail ever so slightly too.

And so, Connor, the person who was usually oh so cool and collected, when faced with this giant fluffy beast, lost it immediately. In a good way. He lowered himself to his knees to get to the same level Sumo was at and just continued to sit there for a good half an hour, just petting him and showing him how much he already loved him, which Sumo of course appreciated very much (and Connor appreciated him appreciating that, more than very much).

But after he completed the task of ‘Bond with Sumo for life’, he realized he hadn’t actually looked around, which was odd, considering, that it was a pretty vital part of his programming that the minute he stepped inside a room, the first thing he would do was analyze the area. But that day he seemed to just really be too exhausted and thrown off by everything to do that (and let’s be honest, Sumo also just entranced him so much, he probably forgot his own name too, when he saw him again).

But now, he was about to correct his mistake.

At just one glance he could already see clues about the work of Hank’s mental health progress all around the place. Everything was a lot cleaner, and tidier. No whiskey bottles, and no takeaway bags everywhere anymore.

The kitchen itself was tidy, and it looked like actual cooking might have happened there not so long ago. In the fridge, there were traces of real food, although Hank did seem to be out of a lot of things. So Connor concluded that he was probably going to go grocery shopping after work. Meaning he’d be late by an estimated half an hour.

But anyway, this all looked promising and it was proof that Hank probably gave up on eating the trash food that Chicken Feed had to offer. Thank god.

Shifting his gaze into the living area, he quickly had to realize, that it wasn’t just the kitchen that was tidy. It was the whole place. Well, moderately tidy, but tidy anyway. The blinds were open, which made the whole room a lot more inviting and alive. There was also no garbage on the floor anymore, which was a weird change, considering that the last time he was there, everything movable was more likely to just be tossed somewhere on the ground than be on a flat surface.

But well, the floor was also a flat surface so there was nothing to really complain about.

Despite the tidiness, there were still so many signs of life, of Hank’s life, it overwhelmed him for just a second. Especially when he got to the coffee table and saw all types of stuff just being thrown there, like his gloves and change and restaurant take-away menus, and post-it-notes with hurriedly written words on them. It was good to see Hank’s life being on display there, him living, and not _just_ existing. God, he couldn’t wait to see him.

When he was done snooping around, he decided to take the liberty of putting on a phonograph record from Hank’s old vinyl collection. He was intrigued by the machine, because it was way, way older than he was and while he could read the base code of it, he couldn’t actually interact with it and that was… well, yeah, interesting.

He found some kind of old jazz band that looked interesting enough and after putting it on and hearing the soft melody, he instantly felt a lot better but also a lot more exhausted than he even thought he was able to feel.

He took his luggage inside the living room but then didn’t exactly know what to do with it, so he just left it in front of the sofa, onto which he proceeded to descend to, then when he realized how comfortable it actually was, he relaxed a bit. The minute he sat down though, he was joined by Sumo, the great, the one and only, who put his big head in his lap in an instant, demanding attention, or at least physical contact.

And that’s when he felt something interesting, something he never felt before.

Serenity.

He never really realized before how much underlying anxiety he was carrying around with himself, at all times. Or maybe he did, but he never thought he would ever experience such a lack of stress.

Just feeling nothing. But in a good way.

His body was dragging him down, that sense of comfortableness. With soft jazz playing in the background, and his hand on the almost audible sound of a steady heartbeat, coming from under a furry fluffball, he felt at ease finally.

Who would’ve thought he would ever feel such peace upon just sitting. Just being.

Who would’ve thought this would be the very place that would make him so content. So calm.

Who would’ve thought he would feel so happy.

But, come to think of it: who would have even thought he would ever start feeling, to begin with.

But he knew the answer to those questions right away, like the solution was in his code, engrained deep in him.

It was Hank Anderson, the person who saw him deep under the machinery and the programming.

It was Hank Anderson, who knew him before he even knew himself.

It was Hank Anderson and he was in the same city with him again.

They were just a few hours away from meeting again.

From restoring the natural balance to the world, clashing into each other again, like two adrift planets in the Universe, that have no idea why they ended up together.

But who will soon learn that they have crossed paths for a reason.

They have crossed paths, to realign the world. To realign themselves.

To build something, from nothing.

To build something, from chaos.

To build _something_.

Two planets.

Separated by the Universe, destined to meet again.

* * *

 

The lights in Detroit always made Hank feel at ease in such a strange way. He loved this city. He knew this city.

But he definitely didn’t ever feel love towards it like how he did during the night, when he was just leaving work, ready to put every worry behind him, when all the lights were shining in the dark and the local radio, as if feeling the strange changes of the atmosphere too, switched to something more melancholic, playing older melodies close to being forgotten, stars of a long gone age singing their hearts out again before they sank back down into oblivion.

 _‘_ _Lonely rivers flow_  
To the sea, to the sea  
To the open arms of the sea  
Lonely rivers sigh  
"Wait for me, wait for me"  
I'll be coming home, wait for me _’_

It was cheesy, it was disgustingly sentimental and it was absolutely something he was definitely humming along to.

 _Hope he’s okay_ , he thought, but didn’t really let himself go down that train of thought. Let alone start getting excited.

He didn’t call him, so he wouldn’t be home just yet.

That was his stance on things.

And oh, how wrong he was.

 

* * *

 

Even while in stasis, Connor clearly heard the car pull in outside, that simple sound making him jolt right awake in an instant.

He had gone to stasis not long after he sat down to straight up cuddle with Sumo, because well. He was tired. He didn’t really have any time for himself ever since that two full hours of sleep he had last night, and then there was the press conference, then saying goodbye, then being in the air, feeling the changes of pressure to which he had to keep adjusting his body too...

So of course he ended up going into stasis, especially because he knew he had 3-4 hours until Hank got back. It was logical to start his repairs while he was waiting.

But he must have miscalculated somewhere, because Hank had just parked his car in front of the house, exactly 2 hours and 56 minutes after Connor went into stasis. Meaning a couple of minutes before his estimated arrival.

Oh, boy.

He tried to desperately assess the situation, but there was nothing really there, that he could assess. They were about to meet. Again. After almost a month of not seeing each other.

After almost a month of desperately wanting to be close to him again every quiet hour he had to himself. And well, they were definitely close now. Five and a half meters exactly. And counting.

He thought he could at least try to make himself presentable in the limited time he got, so he looked down and that’s when he realized that he was still wearing the navy blue suit he wore to the press conference. Not very casual.

He also suddenly started to have doubts: what if Hank actually changed his mind about him staying there? What if Connor somehow misunderstood something?

But he couldn’t have, he concluded. Hank made it clear that he wanted him there. He left him a note too, just in case he got back early. He was expecting him.

He had this whole conversation with himself in the short time while Hank got out of the car, carried himself to the front door and tried to unlock the door, which led to him facing the fact that it was already open. Meaning that somebody was there, waiting for him.

He hesitated for just a moment, then he pushed the door handle down firmly and stepped inside.

‘I’m glad you decided to use the actual door this time, replacing that window was a pain in the ass’ he said, carrying a big bag of groceries in one hand (>>>Prior conclusion based on objects found around the area -> _correct_ <<<). He was looking down, fiddling with his keys and with the handle as he got inside, which was odd, because his behavior was a straight-up contradiction to how his voice made him sound like.

Because his voice radiated confidence.

But he did not _look_ confident. At all.

He looked like the awkward teenagers do in those Hollywood-esque movies where there’s always a point in which the established ‘nerd’ character tries to flirt with the school’s hottest chick, but fails miserably.

He looked _that_ type of awkward.

Not that Connor noticed. Well, in a normal setting, he would’ve. In an instant, in fact. But this time his vision was too clouded by the fact that he just saw Hank for the first time in a while and that they were having a conversation after what felt like an eternity. The fact that his audio processor could pick up every resonance of his voice and calculate the exact frequency of it, this time not having to count with the phone line’s interference was already overwhelming enough that he wouldn’t have noticed anything else at that moment.

‘I thought I might as well, I didn’t want to get attacked by Sumo like the last time’ Connor replied, all doubts evaporating from him at that very moment.

Because this was finally happening. He went around the sofa, to get rid of everything standing in between them and then waited for Hank to get himself sorted out too.

‘You got attacked?’ Hank asked, trying to pull his shoes off of his feet without using his hands. That wasn’t working, so he decided to set the groceries down and try to act normal and not awkward as heck, for a change.

‘Just a little’ Connor said and that was the moment when Hank finally looked up at him, then after a hint of wonder showing up in the form of a microexpression, his face eased into a warm and comfortable smile. And that was the exact point when the world stopped for Connor, in the form of an analysis prompt showing up right next to Hank’s face.

He accepted the prompt and looked around for changes.

First thing he noticed was how similar this  current facial expression was to the one Hank made the last time they met in front of the Chicken Feed. There was a 98% match between the two pictures and he wondered for a brief second if this smile had a particular meaning behind it and if that could be determined without asking Hank about it, but then he somehow just decided not to analyze too into it and moved on to the next thing.

The first big change he detected was the hair. Because he had… cut it, for sure, that anybody would’ve noticed, you didn’t need to be a literal android with a detective’s coding implemented in you.

And well, that change was… different. It wasn’t too short, there were still long strands here and there falling into his face, but, well, Connor had conflicting feelings.

Because it looked good, hell, it looked amazing, but this wasn’t the look he was used to. And that was confusing and he definitely needed time to really adjust to that, but he got over the confusion pretty quickly, because well, he had to admit, he did look a lot sharper like that.

And also, he thought to himself, all the pictures of Hank in the database, meaning ID card photos, pictures taken for graduation etc., all showed him having short hair. So maybe he himself preferred it shorter, he just… he had been in a bad place and wasn’t really caring about his body for a while.

This was him cleaning himself up in a way (and damn, what a clean-up it was).

The second change was his face. It wasn’t really all that different, but Connor hadn’t seen him in a while so the difference between the then tired eyes and the now much more alive, healthier ones was still quite a shock to him.

Well, a good kind of shock.

His body also looked slightly healthier, although he still looked pretty much the same, just a lot more alive, a lot happier. A lot better.

>>>Analysis Complete<<<

>>>Conclusion: Health Improvement Detected since last analysis on: Lt. Anderson, Hank<<<

He pulled himself out of the analysis then and arrived back to real time.

Where Hank was still smiling that smile at him and he couldn’t help but start mimicking his expression too.

So they just stared at each other in silence, smiling in the middle of the living room, taking in the changes in their own ways.  But despite the changes, they both knew that nothing important had really changed in them: they were still very much themselves.

They were still the same person they were before, even if maybe now a bit elevated versions of themselves.

And Connor really lost every rational thought in that one oh so very long moment. His thoughts had been invaded by emotions, flooding every thought, making them indecipherable and therefore making his mind blank.

All he knew in that moment was that he wanted Hank close.

Closer than ever, with no instructions inside that could give him an idea about how to go about that.

Luckily he didn’t have to figure that one out right then and there, because just like the last time, Hank was the one who found the strength to take that one extra step closer to pull Connor into that long awaited hug, making the exact same motions he did four weeks ago, back when they met up to say goodbye. It was a very full-circle kind of situation.

But despite the similar nature of it, this time the hug also felt a bit different: there was more of a desperation in Hank’s movements; he held tighter and he pulled him in deeper, his hands grasping into his suit like he could evaporate in an instant if he didn’t hold onto him tight enough.

And the minute he was pulled into his arms, Connor felt that weirdly warm feeling resurface again, flooding his entire chest, urging him but melting him at the same time.

Without even thinking about it, he held on just a little bit tighter too and buried his face into his shoulder just a little bit deeper than he was probably supposed to. Or he _thought_ he was supposed to, at least.

‘It’s good to have you back’ Hank rumbled, voice soft and so so close to him, he could feel his breath on his neck and if Connor would have had the ability, he would’ve definitely been in the process of passing out.

‘It’s good to be back’ he replied, instead of passing out ‘I already took the liberty of playing some music on the record player, if that’s alright’

‘Use it as you like, you live here now, no objections’

Hank then pulled away, but didn’t _step_ away, just grasped at his shoulders and pat them repeatedly, almost as if he knew it would be far more acceptable if he would have ended the hug already, but couldn’t make himself do it just yet.

‘You got a haircut’ Connor said then, matter-of-fact, feeling the heat in his body slowly travel up into his face as he continued to stare into Hank’s.

‘Yeah, just. You know. It was long. And in the way’ he explained, shrugging all over the place, now letting his hands slide away from Connor’s shoulders and back to where they came from.

‘It suits you’ Connor told him sincerely and as he smiled at him, the skin crinkled next to his eyes, making Hank shoot his eyes away in an instant, just awkwardly scratching the back of his own neck instead of replying, but still making a kind of grimace that could’ve maybe been taken as him accepting the compliment, but nobody could’ve been sure, considering that this is Hank we’re talking about.

He then, desperately trying to get away from actually having to take that compliment, simply walked away and went to the kitchen, tossing his keys to the table with the same motion. He walked to the freezer to look for something to eat and got out a medium-sized bag. A frozen ready meal. Spaghetti, to be exact. Or more like, the close-cousin of it.  

Well, that was still better than plain fast food, Connor concluded. Not the best, but better.

Hank probably forgot about the bag full of groceries he just bought home and left at the door the minute he stepped inside, so Connor decided to be a tiny bit helpful and at least bring that to the kitchen. He was also still trying to calm that warm feeling in his chest, and needed a distraction as soon as possible.

‘What are we listening to?’ Hank asked, gesturing towards the record player. While he sat the bag down on the kitchen, Connor glanced at the device for a second.

‘I don’t know I just needed something other than quiet’ he shrugged, then sat down at the table, playing with his fingers as a nervous motion. He missed his coin now more than ever before.

‘Yeah, I get that’ Hank muttered, while he pulled the packaging off the frozen food, and put it in the microwave. Then he turned around to look back at Connor.

‘The others doin’ okay?’ he asked.

That was a very simple question, but it still somehow made Connor confused for a long second.

Because… _others_? There were other people? They exist? Sounds fake. The two of them were the only ones there, what other…

Oh, he meant his friends, whom he loved and cherished.

 _Those_ others. Gotcha.

‘Probably. After we separated they went straight to Cyberlife to get started already. I haven’t heard from them since, but judging by the fact that there haven’t been any police reports about their murders, I would say they are as fine as it gets’ he said, but then also felt the need to continue ‘but to be honest, it wasn’t easy. Letting them go, I mean’

He said that so casually, without a second thought. Just facts. Which was already weird enough for his own self too, because he was never so casual about things he was feeling. Well, he was with Hank, but still. He hasn’t been face-to-face with him for quite a while.

Hank, on the other hand looked troubled. Feeling guilty, maybe.

‘You sure you didn’t wanna join them?’ he asked eventually, studying Connor, who was still mostly only looking at his own hands.

‘I think I had enough of that facility for a lifetime’ he admitted, vision darted away. Hank picked up on that change of tone too and so decided not to push it.

The microwave beeped twice to let him know his food was ready, so he turned away again to take it out. Then he found himself a fork and just like that, he sat down opposite to Connor, very ready to eat.

Sumo also arrived just in time to be able to watch not-his-food being eaten with puppy eyes he was still perfectly capable of making, despite his old age.

And just like that, the three of them fell into a comfortable silence, only slightly broken by the peaceful jazz coursing through the air. It was all too perfect and Connor never wanted to let go of this one moment where they were together again finally, nobody was hurt, or about to be, no guns in sight, nobody who could’ve hurt them, just plain and simple peace.

He felt like he could finally breathe after such a long time of just gritting his teeth and surviving, just being in the motions of doing Something, of having a mission that he needed to accomplish. He was done now. In more than one way.

He had finally time to live. To live his own life.

And yes, he had to admit that it was starting to get ridiculous how he kept finding newer and newer meanings to that one word alone. But maybe the concept of living was something everybody just kept rediscovering from time to time.

And maybe being human meant being a bit pretentious too. Or maybe that was just a character trait, who knew at this point?

‘By the way, I saw the press conference and from the bottom of my heart: fuck you’ Hank broke the silence just by the shrug of a shoulder and that simple statement alone made Connor snicker.

‘I probably deserved that’ he admitted, eyes trailing across him, looking for any sudden change, anything to analyze, to see, to experience.

But then he realized quite quickly that looking at him for such a long time was probably not appropriate and so he darted his eyes away to the side, where Sumo was still staring, waiting for something, anything to drop. It wasn’t his lucky day, though.

More so, because Hank finished his meal way quicker than expected. He got up and gently lowered the bowl he was using into the sink, then left it there, without a second thought.

‘So… any stories to tell? Haven’t heard from you in two days’ he shrugged, looking away.

In a millisecond of tracking of movements and jumping to conclusions Connor suddenly got unnaturally worried for a second that Hank might actually be angry at him for not contacting him earlier, for not even notifying him of his arrival. To his house. To his home.

It all made too much sense and well, Hank had a lot of reasons to be angry right now and he knew that he probably fucked up in a way or two and there was nothing to really use as an excuse for what he did. Or didn’t do.

Because yeah, he did disappear for two days, and could only be seen on TV or in news articles. He was busy, of course, but… he was busy before too. And he still always managed to have time to call Hank here and there.

‘Oh, right, I’m… I should have called before I even came back, that was very …’ he mumbled, trying to justify his actions, but, to his honest relief Hank shook his head immediately and stopped him mid-sentence.

So he wasn’t angry after all.

‘No no no, Connor, it’s okay, I wasn’t calling you out or anything, I just…’ he said, but then he consciously made the decision to shut his mouth and turned away towards the sink.

Where there was the bowl, ready to be cleaned. And so he found himself trapped in between two evils: talking about feelings or washing the dishes. God really was out there trying to punish him every step of the way.

There was a silence between them then. A heavy, loaded silence.

Connor was looking at him, studying every move. He really wanted to hear whatever Hank had in his mind that he was so hesitant to share. And he was very ready to wait however long it took for him to start talking too.

‘I just- I missed you, alright?’ Hank muttered eventually, still not looking at him.

And there it was.

The chest pain.

After thinking that with going back to Detroit it would finally go away and won’t ever come back, it was yet again right there, easily recognizable and even if only mildly painful, still uncomfortable.

And this time his system also started screaming at him, declaring:

>>>FANTHOM OBJECT NOT FOUND<<<

Great. So now he was going to get a fucking error message every time that happened. That’s just perfect.

He decided he was just going to ignore it, though. There wasn’t really anything else he could’ve done about it.

And after speaking, Hank didn’t even wait for an answer from him, he just gestured towards the living room, then went in himself and settled down on the sofa. Sumo joined him immediately, putting his big head into his lap.

Connor was carefully following his tracks with his focus, but didn’t move himself. He needed confirmation that that was actually appropriate, because he didn’t want to make any mistakes. All of this was way beyond uncharted territories for him and he, for some reason didn’t want to take any chance at fucking up.

The perfectionist side of him was apparently acting up.

But, well, he hasn’t seen Hank for a while and for some reason he suddenly didn’t know how they interacted any other time, he just could not pinpoint that and that was… confusing? Because he was always the one person who he didn’t need to act a certain way with or really think about what to say, he was just.

Himself. Plain and simple.

But this felt somehow different. Like he was asking for confirmation that he could still do that. Asking, if it was okay to be himself, which is obviously a dumb thing to do, but that didn’t stop him from doing it.

And Hank, upon seeing his unmoving frame stuck to the chair he was sitting in, just shook his head with a little smirk and then raised his eyebrows at him.

‘Are you just gonna sit there the whole night or what?’ he asked, awfully amused.

That all seemed like nothing. Like, it was literally nothing. The most random thing to get any heavy feeling about, but the minute Connor actually got up and got closer, his heartbeat went immediately out of rhythm and he started to experience various types of new and old feelings, all of them kind of similar to the well-known warmth, but still… somehow different. Maybe very different.

Maybe not at all similar? Feelings are confusing, man.

He sat down on the sofa, just a bit further from Hank and then tried to act casual, but he was in fact, not feeling casual. At all.

‘So… you’re a free man’ Hank offered with a smile ‘I heard the meeting went well’

‘I am and it did’ he answered, then he was about to leave it at that, but then it was like that metaphorical tap got yet again opened and so he just started talking again and didn’t stop for a good full minute ‘it’s kind of surreal to think that just a couple of months ago I was so convinced that I was just a machine, nothing more and nothing less, designed to stop deviants. And to know that I came so far from that and I am actually undoubtedly feeling things and I am real and alive and I have now actual equal rights that grant me full protection by the state, which recognizes that I have the right to be alive is just… it’s surreal. There are no limits anymore and I can just decide for myself and I don’t have to be ashamed for being somebody, I just… I just _am_ ’

The minute he finished talking he realized that he might have said too much too fast, so he glanced at Hank, but he didn’t look like he was at all inconvenienced by all of that being thrown at him. No, he looked happy. Proud. At ease. Maybe a bit moved, but he masked that very well.

‘I like when you go into full-ramble mode’ he said and Connor had a really hard time trying to adjust his heat distribution just then. Again.

‘I haven’t really figured out a way to stop it from happening so I’m glad that’s the case’ he shrugged.

He had to say, in the end nothing really changed. They were still themselves, and after all this time, it was all working out the same way it always did. They were still on the same wavelength, somehow.

Yes, it needed adjusting, but everything does.

‘So what did you do after the meeting was over? Had a sleepover with the Pres’?’ Hank asked and to that all the memories of the night before, the lights, the noise, the deep conversations all came rushing back into his mind.

There was a lot to say, a lot to catch up on.

And so he told him everything. From the insane idea Markus had to them actually ending up going along with that plan and how well it all ended up being. He talked about the party itself, the feeling of just letting go and not giving a shit for once, being invisible, but being seen by friends. He also told Hank about Simon and Markus, to which he expected him to at least be surprised, but he wasn’t. At all.

‘Yeah, that was bound to happen at some point’ he said and Connor furrowed his brows, trying to put two and two together.

‘How…?’

‘Come on, Connor, it was obvious. You remember the phone call the five of us had? There were like three different stories which were all about their attempts at flirting with each other that you and North made fun of them for. And they were both very defensive about everything, which made it clear that to them none of that was a joke. The fact that they confessed in the first place is the only surprising part of this story’ Hank explained, acting like being a human and coming to these kinds of conclusions all from one conversation with them wasn’t a big deal. Like him recognizing patterns of behavior just through one phone call was somehow normal.

Damn, he _was_ good. Connor just didn’t see that before because he was too caught up in the mission and his own denial.

‘Nice work, Lieutenant’ he expressed, truly impressed, but Hank just waved his trademark wave at that.

‘Wasn’t that big of a leap’

He could deny it all he wanted but Connor was still very intrigued by that change.

Because yes, he knew Hank was good at detective work, but he never actually saw him in his element, drawing conclusions from meaningless things and ending up being perfectly spot on.

He was beginning to see why he got all the praise back in the day before… well, before.

He decided it would be better to just shun that thought away so he told him about all the bonding moments he had with North, Markus and Simon instead, going on a lengthy description about how much he just. Liked them. How much they meant to him.

Hearing that made Hank express a very strangely confusing emotion on his face. It was mostly happy, with a hint of sad, and there was a 0.1 millisecond of guilt showing up and all that… didn’t add up.

He was about to question that, but then Hank started talking again, cutting him off before he could’ve said anything.

‘I can’t believe the first thing you did as a free man is go to a party, that is so…’

‘Human?’ Connor interrupted, smiling.

‘…maybe. I was about to say _dumb,_ though, but they basically mean the same thing, so’

Then something shifted in the air. There was yet again a silence between them, but this one wasn’t heavy, it was just nice and comfortable. Connor recognized this shift in the atmosphere as the moment they usually hung up, but this time the silence didn’t come with a bittersweet feeling, because for the first time they didn’t need to be separated. They were still going to continue to be in the same place, even if there was nothing more to talk about anymore.

That was a relief.

And somehow that got rid of the painful pressure from his chest.

So that _did_ have to do something with Hank. Well, not that he didn’t know that already.

He knew it, and yet still decided to ignore it every time the question resurfaced like the dumb idiot he could be occasionally.

They continued to look at each other across the sofa. Comfortable, close, with it still feeling a bit like being miles apart.

They were taking each other in, from a distance, both thinking, trying each other’s boundaries, computing in their own ways.

That’s when Connor yet again had to realize that Hank hadn’t said one thing about himself ever since he came home. The sneaky bastard.

‘You are surprisingly good at never saying anything about yourself until somebody directly asks you’ he said with a pointed look.

And Hank, upon hearing that looked like he just got caught red-handed.

‘People don’t usually notice’ he admitted, avoiding eye-contact, face suddenly very somber. He then, as if commanded, got up and walked into the kitchen, right to the sink. Meaning he was about to wash the one dish he left there. He was _that_ desperate to sneak away from talking about himself.

‘Well _I_ do’ Connor asserted, voice firm, head following Hank’s movements ‘I’m also noticing you trying to get away from this conversation. For your information: it’s not working’

‘Damn you and your fucking android analyzer shit thing’ Hank snapped, defensive.

And if Connor knew one thing about Hank it was that when he felt threatened the first thing he did without a second thought was attack.

Attack and attack and attack until people left him alone already (while secretly he always wanted all of them to stay, despite everything).

‘You know that your cursing doesn’t scare me away, so that’s not working either’ Connor continued, and to that he could hear a low grumble come out of Hank’s mouth.

Okay, maybe he was starting to dance on a thin line. He had to try to be less of a smartass if he wanted Hank to actually start talking about things.

He let out a breath, then lowered his voice, letting concern seep into his words.

‘Did something happen today?’ he asked.

‘Nothing happened, I just don’t really have anything to say. I’m not that interesting, Connor’ Hank exhaled sharply, irritation clear in every word and every movement as he washed the dish in his hand, with motions that could’ve killed a man.

‘You really believe that?’ Connor asked, honestly wondering. He wanted to know how his brain worked and why he did the things he did, but he couldn’t possibly figure it all out if Hank didn’t _talk_ to him. He could always try asking a million personal questions though. He had the time and the energy.

And the motivation.

‘Fucking hell… I don’t _‘believe’_ that because I _know_ it. Okay? I know it’

It all almost sounded like this wasn’t a thing that he came up with, but more like an idea that someone else planted in his head and made him believe that that was the truth.

But it wasn’t. And Connor needed him to know that.

‘You are very intriguing to me. So you are believing a lie’ Matter of fact. Maybe not the best approach. Well, with any other person, it might’ve been. But not with Hank.

‘Yeah? And the fuck is so ‘intriguing’ about me?’ he spat, setting the bowl and fork down on the dish drying rack. Well, ‘setting’. More like slamming it down.

Connor answered almost immediately.

‘I haven’t found anything yet that I didn’t find intriguing about you’ he said, because he knew the truth was absolutely needed right now, but still, he hoped that it wouldn’t be too much.

Hank turned towards him for a second, considering. He looked at him again, as if trying to catch a clear indication of a lie being said, but in-between honest brown eyes and pleading looks asking him to come back, there was nothing to really find, just the plain and simple truth.

He exhaled then, sharp and heavy. He turned off the tap, then dried his hands on the cloth nearby.

Okay, if Connor wanted him to talk, then he was going to talk. He never could say no to him anyway. At least he didn’t really want to. Even when he was screaming and shouting at him, he never actually wanted him to back off, he always wanted him to stick around.

And he did. He always did.

So Hank needed to also man up and stop being an insufferable idiot.

‘I finished working on the case with Reed today. I think I told you about it, the android murdered with a crowbar?’ he started talking like just this snippet of information didn’t require several attempts of persuasion from Connor to finally get it.

But he appreciated that he at least did start talking, so he just went along with it.

‘The WR600?’ he questioned, looking for the memory of their previous conversations on this matter.

Oh, the one that Detective Reed just tossed into the trash by simply calling it a ‘property damage’ case. The one that Hank ended up saving from complete oblivion despite the fact that he had to sacrifice himself for the sake of it and tolerate working with Reed for a bit. A long bit.

‘Yep. His name was Peter. His girlfriend was a WR400, you know, the ones from Eden Club?’ Hank continued and Connor nodded, suddenly North coming into his mind and in a minute of protectiveness his hand curled up into a tight fist. He had a bad feeling about where this was going ‘they both deviated way before all the shit went down and somehow managed to stay out of it until things cooled down. But after the revolution they needed some parts for repairs so she went to Canaan to get those from Josh, but a previous customer recognized her face and you know… model, on the street and followed her home, then started molesting her’

‘So how does the boyfriend come into the picture?’ Connor asked, not entirely clueless, but acting as if, to possibly push Hank towards talking more about it.

‘Peter saw what was happening from their window and went down to help her. He grabbed a crowbar on his way down, in an attempt to scare the man away, but that just made him angrier and the argument got carried away and well. The girlfriend managed to run away, but Peter ended up losing the fight and the man got the crowbar. Killed him right on the spot’ Hank explained, and with every added word he got slowly but surely closer to getting back to the sofa.

‘WR600s are not equipped to fight. They are sturdy and strong, obviously because of their android nature, but they are supposed to be peaceful and non-threatening. They were only meant to be gardeners’ Connor offered the information, like he always did. Like they were back at a crime scene, deconstructing the scene together, Hank offering the practical knowledge, while he gave additional information about things Hank might not know.

This was good. This was them, in action again. This was like the good old days.

And that was a clear sign that they still worked well together. That they were still synchronized. Their paces were way different, but they were synchronized nevertheless.

It seemed like Hank also felt that sudden sense of familiar balance.

The familiar feeling of spinning around each other like they were the only existing planets in their own private galaxy.

Push and pull, push and pull.

Not getting closer but not getting further.

Just enough push and just enough pull to make sure they were still there, forever there.

Spinning and spinning.

‘So you caught the perpetrator?’ Connor asked, trying to push away his not-so-relevant thoughts.

Hank finally sat down too.

‘We did. His DNA was all over the body, and we had him in custody for various things before, like lying to authorities, damaging private property, trespassing, you name it. The girlfriend confirmed that he was the guy we were looking for and so we just basically pulled up in front of his house and just took him in. Turns out dude still lives with his parents. He’s 45 by the way’ he laughed to himself at that and there was also a smile playing at Connor’s lips.

Well, that was definitely a despicable human being, but the knowledge of him being not just garbage, but also miserable made him feel a sort of smug happiness.

‘Let’s just hope they won’t rule it as self-defense. Peter did approach him with a crowbar’ Connor reminded him, keeping it all realistic. Hank just shrugged to that.

‘Yeah, well. We did everything we could, it’s all on the jury now’

Connor had to agree. There was no point ruminating over that, because they really had no power over what was going to happen. Police never had. It wasn’t their job to punish, after all.

‘Is Reed still…?’ he started the question, but didn’t know how to finish. Luckily Hank was there to help him out with that.

‘An asshole? Yeah. He’s worse than before’ he grunted, running a hand through his hair, which made some strands fall into his face, making Connor forget what breathing was supposed to be for a hot second there ‘He doesn’t have any respect for anyone. Be it human or android, he just simply doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself’

Wait, that sounded different, Connor thought. There was something in the twitch of his eyebrows masking away something else. Like Hank was trying to hide something away from him.

‘Did you have an argument?’ he asked, eyes narrowing while trying to analyze every little change of behavior possible.

And at first Hank didn’t answer, probably wasn’t even about to, but then as a spur of the moment decision he ended up talking anyway.

‘Yeah’ he breathed, face loosening up.

>>>No lie detected<<<

‘About what?’ Connor pushed, because he still hadn’t learned that that never did him any good.

Hank looked at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes, jawline tightening. Connor could detect the rising of his blood pressure too. It must’ve been because of anger, he concluded.

‘It doesn’t matter, Connor’ he said, but then felt the need to add more ‘if we don’t care about whatever the fuck he says then he has no power. And that’s how I prefer Reed to be. Without any actual power’

He had to reevaluate his last conclusion then, because when Hank spoke, his voice was so low and bordering on being apologetic, it directly contradicted with everything else his behavior was suggesting.

What the fuck.

So it wasn’t anger. Then maybe he was embarrassed over something? Hm.

He wasn’t going to find out what was going on though, because Hank was already in the process of changing the topic as quickly as possible.

‘By the way, I talked to Fowler yesterday. About you. He’s open to getting you back on the force but he wants to have an actual meeting with you first’ he said, seemingly out of the blue.

And at an instant Connor felt like an entire mountain was lifted off of his shoulder so he could finally breathe, finally see a clear future again.

‘He is open…?’

‘Of course he is. He just… you know, didn’t actually pay any attention to you, so he needs to like, see what the fuck you can do. Well, he knows some of the stuff, he was the one who accepted you from Cyberlife in the first place, so like, he read your file and also saw that we worked well together so like, he knows, but he still…’ he was stuttering, mumbling and talking too fast all at the same time. But there was no need for any words, because Connor already understood the situation completely.

‘He needs to see if I’m actually alive, right?’ he offered, and to that Hank shut up immediately, trying to pinpoint where Connor was standing emotionally.

He studied him a bit, but then tilted his head.

‘Do you hate that?’ he asked, tentative.

‘…no’ Connor answered, hesitating for a second. Big mistake.

‘So you do’ Hank concluded, rightly so.

‘No’ Connor repeated, this time with more confidence.

‘Oh my god, you really hate that, don’t ya?’

‘I don’t hate _that_ specifically’ he corrected him ‘I just hate being analyzed’

‘That’s funny cause you analyze anything and everything that comes your way. Now you know how us mere mortals feel like every time you even glance at us’

Connor made a tortured sound, so Hank scooted a bit closer, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

And Connor stopped suffering that millisecond.

‘Listen, it’s not like he’s gonna ask you anything personal. He just needs to have a human conversation with you. And _that_ you can do’ he said, hand squeezing.

Connor could not take his eyes off of him then, he just kept on watching him and watching him and they were so close he could hear his heartbeat from there and there was the warmth, that comfortable closeness, the…

Then Hank turned away and with another pat on his shoulder he stood up and walked away from him.

And like an icy hand ripping his pump regulator out, the chest pain came right back again.

_Goddammit._

He had to stop whatever bullshit his body was doing to him or it was definitely going to wreck his life and murder him right on the spot.

Especially because he knew he was massively overstepping. Looking at him like that, feeling these kinds of things, yearning for… something? That wasn’t okay. It must’ve not been, right?

Ms. Peters, the interviewer from before jumped into his mind then. She and her android girlfriend. She and her words pointing him towards the truth, towards the one and only explanation to what he was feeling. He got scared then, the first time he had to face that there was something more inside of him. Something growing, something unstoppable.

He got so scared in fact, that he didn’t even talk to Hank for a while… but he managed to get out of that temporary crisis fairly quickly, so why was he back in it again?

Maybe actually seeing him for the first time after everything is what did it. What made him act so weird, so irrational, so emotional and so…

 _Human?_ his system offered him and he scoffed to himself.

Because yes.

Yes, that’s what was happening.

And he wouldn’t have had any problem with that if it wasn’t threatening to fuck up the most meaningful relationship he ever had with someone.

He had to be better, he had to learn how to control himself, because this was not something he was about to let get destroyed. Not by anyone and not by his own self.

Friends. Friends. Friends.

That’s all there was to it.

 _‘That sounds weirdly romantic’_ he remembered Hank’s soft voice, the way he hesitated before finally said it out loud. And remembering that simple sentence spun Connor out of control yet again, but only for a moment, because this time he breathed in and then out and it was okay.

Well, _okay_ , but the chest pain was still there to stay, so nothing was really ideal.

But the pain he could deal with, though. He was used to it, by then.

‘You wanna watch a movie or somethin’?’ Hank asked, while he stopped the record player and got the TV remote into his hand.

This was Connor’s chance to finally act normal.

‘Well you talked about a Terminator movie at some point…?’ he suggested and Hank already lit up at just the mention of that.

‘Perfect choice. But I have to warn you, this movie is even older than me, so… don’t judge the graphics’

‘How bad is it?’

‘Very bad’ he snickered.

He settled back down next to Connor, maybe a bit closer than before and they were almost immediately joined by Sumo, who didn’t even ask to be let up this time, he just made the ruling decision that he had a place up there. So he jumped to the middle ground between them, carefully placing his head on Connor’s lap, while sprawling his legs across Hank, aligning his body so he was laying on both of them, as if connecting them.

Hank didn’t appreciate the sentiment though, considering that all he was seeing of the dog was his gracious butt.

‘Great, my dog likes you more now’ he grumbled, turning away in protest.

‘Would it help if I said _I_ like you more than I like your dog?’ Connor asked, he himself thinking he wasn’t doing anything in particular with his face, but to Hank it looked like he just initiated a doe-eyed protocol or some shit like that. He pushed at him just a little, annoyed.

‘Don’t fucking lie to me Connor, we both know he’s a sweetheart’ he said, looking away, not wanting to be manipulated into maybe possibly believing him.

(Little did he know that Connor secretly meant everything he said, a 100%, but let’s just let him be in denial about that, so he doesn’t combust abruptly.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank, going home, listening to a romantic song, and thinking about connor because of it: oh how i love platonic friendship  
> every person on earth, suddenly getting a headache: oh no, someone just said something so fucking dumb that we all just collectively lost one braincell from the two that we had, oh man...
> 
> north: oh man, it's so good that we finally got rid of murderguy, i mean what a fucking nerd, who needs him, right? good thing i don't have to see his dumb face every day now and listen to his annoying voice  
> markus: north, you are literally crying  
> north, wiping her face violently: sHUT UP


	3. You're terminated, fucker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're feeling hank and connor bant-flirting in this chili's tonight
> 
> (we're gonna ride this fluff train for a bit my friends, because I love them and they need to chill for just a bit, but there's....a lot more to this fic, I promise!! the main story line and the whole conflict part of this will be introduced shortly too, but I hope you can wait a bit more while I set the scene and stuff <3 and I also hope you like these chapters too <3 <3)

Hank learned very early on that Connor could just, by nature, not shut the fuck up during movies. He was always analyzing, always reacting to scenes, always having deep philosophical thoughts about things even when seemingly nothing was happening on the screen.

And at first he might have been a bit… annoyed at him talking all the time, especially because he felt like a damn fool next to Connor, having no coherent thought in his brain after the busy day he had, while Connor was just drawing connections left and right, literally being the embodiment of coherence at the moment.

But still, after a surprisingly short time of being grumpy to the max, Hank managed to get over that whole thing and ended up kind of starting to like how chatty Connor was being.

Or, maybe he didn't like that specific thing, he just liked _him_ , and liked hearing what he thought about things.

 _How_ he thought about things. It was always interesting to see him think and come to conclusions and draw parallels so quickly and steadily. Yeah, he knew he had a whole computer for a brain, but that didn’t mean that Hank was any less fascinated by seeing that computer working.

‘The fact that Sarah’s answering machine keeps saying ‘this is just a machine, but machine’s need love too, so talk to it’ is very telling about where this story is going’ Connor said, just off the shoulder and Hank could tell that he was already going down hundreds of different lanes of thought about what was about to happen in the movie, all of his speculation probably very very off-track and wrong. So Hank felt personally obligated to break his enthusiasm and clear the air for him quickly, before he got too attached to the characters.

‘This movie is not going that way, it's the original one, so the Terminator is just a bad guy, don’t try to think too much into it’

Connor didn't say anything to that then and also didn't even really seem like he particularly believed what Hank had told him.

No, actually, he didn't believe him at all and was about to get seriously attached to the Terminator's character anyway, just like a straight up fool.

Another notable mention of Connor Reacting To The Movie happened a little later, when one of the key characters, Kyle Reese shared a bit more information about the Terminator itself. He wasn't saying anything out of the ordinary, it was just a dramatic monologue, but still, somehow Connor decided that was the perfect time to just burst out laughing, like he just heard the best goddamn joke of his entire existence. He was shaking with laughter and didn’t even try to mask the fact that he was amused beyond repair.

‘The fuck is _that_ funny?’ Hank asked, at first just mildly annoyed.

‘He is… He is… he is the most advanced model and his serial number… his serial number is… 101’ Connor said, laughing so hard, he could almost not squeeze the words out of himself. He buried his face into Sumo, trying to stop the giggles, but that seemed impossible.

‘Shut up, this was the 80s’ Hank grumbled, personally offended that Connor, an android, was straight up making fun of how dumb humans were back in the day.

‘He is ANCIENT’ he wheezed out again, but Hank slapped a pillow at him and that unexpected turn did make him freeze for just a moment.

‘Stop dragging this movie’ Hank demanded, now fully-annoyed.

And Connor did indeed calm down, but still snickered to himself here and there.

And Hank let him, because he was secretly maybe a bit also kind of happy to hear him this amused. Even if he was such a prick about it.

Dammit those guys at Cyberlife really knew what they were doing when they were making him. Assertive but still non-threatening. Scary and yet still weirdly adorable. Vicious but emotional when need be.

How. The. Fuck.

‘Wait…’ Connor started, and that’s when Hank realized that for the past few minutes he hadn’t been watching the movie, nope, he had been staring at Connor's side profile for a good three minutes, missing quite some crucial lines from the scene ‘so in the future they produced a 600 series that looked a lot less human? Then they made the Terminators and decided to make their serial number 101? This doesn’t make any sense, Hank’

‘This is just a movie’ is all he said, then took his eyes away very quickly.

 _'That Cyborg. It can’t be bargained with; it can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity or remorse or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead’_ the movie mused and Connor furrowed his brows, like he doubted the truthfulness of those words.

‘I can’t wait until the Terminator deviates’ he expressed, to which Hank turned to him, getting fed up with the fact that Connor apparently just did not seem to get that there wasn’t going to be any redemption for old Schwarzenegger guy. At least not in this movie.

‘It doesn’t work like that in this universe. I told you already, he’s just a bad guy. Nothing more, nothing less’

Silence. He almost thought that Connor had finally accepted the reality, but apparently that still wasn’t his lucky day.

‘I bet Markus could make him deviate’ he speculated. And talked again.

A loud grumble left Hank’s throat in frustration and Connor upon hearing that, knew he had probably fucked around with him a bit too much and should maybe stop before he would get himself kicked out of the house on his very first day back (because make no mistake, he wasn't actually confused by the plot. He understood it perfectly and knew that the only android character in the whole entire movie will only be treated like a villain and he had embraced that fact already, but still. He just wanted to talk shit a bit and annoy Hank in the process. What a surprise).

There were several minutes of just mindless TV watching then, which was oh-so-well needed, especially after the few last days that Hank had.

He was doing better, of course, that was a big thing that was happening, but besides that, just all the other things he had to tend to were starting to be way too fucking much. Keeping it all up and doing the shit the therapist asked him to do and then going in to the office to work with someone who literally could not get off his dick was... a lot. So it was nice that after all the shit he got to have a little bit of break from reality and could just spend time together with Connor. And Sumo.

Just the three of them.

He hadn’t felt this calm in such a long time. He knew there wasn’t going to be a depressive episode that night, because that moment he was truly okay.

The best he had been since a long, long time, actually.

If anything, at least for that one night of peace, he felt like it was worth it. Worth it to survive that long.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How one moment you would rather just die and be done with everything, but then the most unexpected thing comes along and you suddenly feel like it might not be as hopeless. That you might still have a chance at living.

Well, one thing was sure, that he was thankful that he did in fact survive this long. Somehow.

Just for this one moment alone.

Of course he would’ve never actually said these things out loud. That wasn’t his spiel. His spiel was just giving bits of information about how much gratitude he felt, while never actually saying anything about it in its whole entirety. Maybe giving behavoral clues to others just so they could get a clear idea of how much they were appreciated.

But yeah, words never really happened.

At least, before Connor he never even really felt the need to open up, but ever since he deviated, all they really had was. Well, phone calls. And the big thing about those is that you really have to know how to talk to each other in a way that works for the both of you, or else you won't succeed at keeping whatever relationship you were trying to save from the sharp claws of distance.

And he did learn how to say what Connor wanted to hear, eventually. Maybe it wasn't perfect and it was mostly vague and only semi-coherent and not the most well-articulated thing in the history of ever, but it still seemed like Connor did like it when he made himself say those things.

And he liked seeing that he liked it that much.

Why he wanted reassurance and appreciation from him specifically was beyond Hank, but after all they’ve been through, he couldn’t just not give him exactly that, especially when he was so clearly asking for it.

And besides that, he also just felt important, when he got to say the things Connor wanted to hear. Because to him that was a clear indication, that he wasn’t the only one who needed someone to rely on, because Connor also needed someone for that exact same purpose. And they were apparently the perfect person to give the other just that.

It was balance.

Who would’ve thought. An android and a human. Somehow balancing each other out in exactly the right way.

One would think this too must've been planned by those sneaky bastards at Cyberlife and while it was tempting for Hank to just simply let himself be paranoid and point fingers at everyone and everything, deep down he still knew that it was still not likely that that was the truth. It just couldn’t have been.

Hank was always just in their way. He was not at all helpful or beneficial to Connor's mission; he was just a distraction. He was someone they only needed for getting the information they wanted, all through their perfect killing machine. But he was never anything more to them.

Thank god the killing machine saw him though. That the killing machine somehow cared more about him than his mission.

He served his purpose of being a distraction well, then. At least it seemed like.

And all of this? The fact that they made Connor in a certain way, to do a certain thing, just to then have him end up disobeying his core orders and become someone who would fit right into Hank's life like a missing puzzle piece was more any human could ever even attempt to write into code.

No, this couldn't have been planned, not by anyone.

It was messy, it was too coincidental.

It looked too much like... like destiny.

As gross and cheesy as that might sound.

He shook his head at that, trying to make that lane of thought disappear, just get out of his head. Because he was, admittedly, too old for this shit. And he should've also just stopped finding clues and piecing shit together, at least in his own home.

 _‘They are called HK… hunter-killers'_ said Kyle Reese, the one, the only, snarling on the TV screen and this time Hank found himself breaking his own rule of not talking and did in fact, start speaking.

‘Doesn’t your serial number start with RK? Like robot-kil…’

‘Yes, thank you Hank, I am well aware’ this time it was Connor's time to snap, all while not even taking his vision away from the TV’s blue lights, as if protesting against the entire world.

Hank thought that that was it, he ticked him off and he was going to shell up for the rest of the night, but then not even a minute later Connor's voice was loud and clear again beside him, analyzing the shit out of poor old movie logic yet again.

‘Despite the fact that he is _The Terminator_ , his range is way off. He was 5 meters away from his target, she was easily detectable and he had a loaded gun. Then he fires three times and he _misses_? Doesn’t even scrape her? I could’ve neutralized that woman standing even further away and I wouldn’t need 3 bullets to succeed, I’ll tell you that’ he said that so simply, Hank had shivers down his spine. For more than one reason.

He swallowed hard, before speaking.

‘You’re freaky when you say things like that, you know?’ he asked, clearing his throat like three times after he stopped speaking, to which Connor took his eyes away from the screen, and looked at Hank, a bit confused.

‘Hank, you know I would never hurt you’

And Hank didn’t answer to that, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to come out of that conversation unscraped. Emotionally speaking.

Some words came to his mind, words he only let go just minutes ago.

 _Scary yet adorable_. Yep. Both. Both of those. Aha. Yeah. Uhum.

* * *

 

‘She’s dumb’ Connor stated, when Sarah just simply decided to fall on the floor in a chase scene. Again.

‘Hey, no woman-hate on my watch’ Hank raised a finger at him, only half joking.

‘I didn’t mean _every_ woman is, I just meant her. Women can be dumb Hank, it’s 2038’ Connor shot back, with a face that screamed the fact that he was convinced he just won an argument, and was not about to hide his pride at that.

‘Don’t try to out feminist me, or I’ll… I’ll manhandle you’ Hank stuttered, panicking. He was not a man who accepted failure easily either.

‘I’m sure you meant _wo_ manhandle me’ Connor leaned forward, smirk on his face ‘or else you’re going to get in trouble for using gendered speech, my friend’

‘Fuck you, you just used gendered speech too’ an attack. Again. He should’ve known Connor had already learned all of his defense mechanisms by now and would remain unaffected by his pathetic attempts. Damnit.

‘Yes, but I used the marginalized group’s gender, which means I’m in the clear and you’ll be held accountable by every woman on Earth’ he said with a voice that was clearly meant to seal the deal.

Hank huffed out a laugh at that.

‘The things you fucking come up with, Jesus Christ’ he tried very hard to look annoyed, shaking his head. Then, when his eyes wandered back to the screen and they registered what was happening exactly, he, almost like a reflex, got up from the sofa and jabbed a finger towards the direction of the TV, before he said ‘also there’s a sex scene coming up so I’m just gonna take one for the team and go pee’

The minute he actually did leave the room, Connor turned back to the movie where there was indeed a violent makeout session happening. He slid down on the sofa (well, as much as he could with being squashed by Sumo) and well, embarrassed or not embarrassed, he did watch the whole scene, trying to act professional and just… inspect. But he couldn’t… _not_ relate all of this to himself. Or at least parts of it.

Because he had never been kissed before, and that just downed on him at that very second. And what was weirder, he actually somehow had a generalized feeling attached to how it was supposed to feel, meaning that he must’ve been programmed with some kind of… Something.

But he hasn’t actually experienced being kissed yet.

Not that he didn’t want it, of course he wanted it. Well, not ' _of course_ '. Just. He wanted it.

He wanted somebody to look at him with eyes so soft and pleading. He wanted to be in arms so protective, so gentle, but still somehow harsh, wrapping around him. Holding on and him holding them back.

And also, just to mention, he thought, while he started to go down a trail of thought: the man, while he looked strong and big next to Sarah, he was still definitely not as big and not as strong as Hank was. Just a fact, nothing to see there. But still, to finish that thought, it was worth noting that Hank could’ve probably or more like, definitely broke him in half, if he tried. In more ways than one.

He wouldn’t mind being kissed by him, he concluded.

But then he caught that thought in the speed of a lightning bolt and the second he reviewed it he held his own consciousness at gunpoint, hands shaking, screaming ‘WHICH ONE OF THEM DID YOU MEAN?’.

But there was no answwer to be found. Or more like, there was one, undeniable answer. But that one he was not going to address.

No, no, no. He wasn’t supposed to think about any of that. Not at all. Shun those thoughts away, what kisses, we only know hugs and… fist bumps and… handshakes… or anything else that might be friendly, wait, shit, fuck, how does one act friendly again?

‘Thank god it’s over. I first watched this movie with my parents and you can imagine how fucking awkward that was’ he heard Hank’s voice from behind, as he walked back to the living room.

Connor smiled at him, but didn’t speak. Was not going to say anything, none at all, his permission for conversation was denied by his own mind.

So he was weirdly non-conversational at that point and Hank did notice, but he thought it might be because he was getting tired (nevermind that androids don’t actually get tired. He just somehow kept forgetting that).

But he also wasn't going to address anythig, just settled back down, eyes narrowing as he tried to understand what was going on inside Connor. He couldn’t though, because his eyes met a perfectly expressionless face, that he could not read. At all.

So as a means of showing him that even if he did not understand, he was still there, he put his left arm on the headrest of the couch.

Meaning he put it just around Connor’s neck, but didn’t actually touch him, he was just.

Well, there.

At first Connor didn’t even believe that that was all happening, and well, he didn’t even want to really analyze the situation at that moment, he just.

He just wanted to be close. Closer. As close as he could get. As close as he was allowed.

So he slightly tilted his head towards him, just a bit.

And they stayed like that. Not moving an inch away or closer.

They stayed in the middle ground, not touching, not really, but not being far away either.

Their own kind of balance.

Push and pull, push and pull. Spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is very random, but am I the only one who [huge terminator spoiler alert] until the whole shit plot twist of Kyle being John Connor's father was revealed, honest to god thought Kyle was in love with John? Just. There were so many repressed gay moments, where he was literally only attracted to those parts of Sarah that he recognized as John's characteristics?? Which I guess for straight peeps was just foreshadowing that he is going to fall in love with his mother, but like. wHAT?? then why does he say to sarah, all dreamy 'you have his eyes' like??? DUDE???? anyway, the terminator movie queerbaited me and i felt like a damn fool when they pulled that whole I AM YOUR FATHER plot twist and i'm still mad sldfhj)


	4. One can be the master of what one does, but never of what one feels

‘I forgot to tell you, but there’s a spare bedroom between mine and the bathroom, I cleaned that out for ya. So you can move your stuff in there if you wanna’ Hank shared, gesturing towards the hallway.

The movie had been over for quite a while and they’ve just been doing whatever else, when Hank announced that he was about to go to sleep because ‘therapist woman said it helps with targeting mood swings or some shit like that’. But then they quickly realized that they haven’t actually talked about the simple question of ‘where the fuck’s gonna Connor sleep?’. Like, they didn’t even come close to the topic. Not until this moment when Hank suddenly remembered it out of the blue and just mentioned it casually, like he hadn’t been obsesseing over it for the past couple of days.

‘I don’t really have much ‘stuff’ to begin with. Just my handful off books and some clothes Markus purchased me’ Connor said, trying to protest, because for some unknown reason he really wanted to argue with Hank about this.

‘You still need a place to crash at, so…’ Hank said trailing off, not really wanting to start a debate over this whole thing. He made a decision and he was going to make Connor go along with it. And that was it.

He led him to the room and opened the door for him, all while saying something, with a hand scratching the back of his head, but Connor wasn’t listening anymore.

Because the room he just walked into was more than he ever needed, honestly. He could’ve just slept on the couch, considering that he didn’t even sleep, he just went into stasis, which he could’ve done standing too, if need be.

But no, he got a whole little room for himself, which probably served as a place that Hank previously put his clutter in. But he was only assuming that, he would’ve not actually been able to tell by the state the room was in, because it looked. Clean. Cozy. Warm.

Home-shaped, if you will.

There was a very clear difference between this room and the one he had stayed in back at the hotel in D.C.

Because the hotel room was… yes, very nice and had a beautiful view but it was also. Lifeless. Cold, despite the warm colors of its furniture.

But this room. It had personality, from the very antique looking wardrobe to the modern-ish looking desk pushed to the other side with a chair accompanying it, to the simple, yet again probably very old bookcase that already held books of all shapes and sizes.

It was eclectic, just like Hank himself.

But there were also newer pieces and bits there. Like the dirty blue bedsheets that were clearly purchased not long ago or the small pot of plant on the desk, that little bit of carefully added thought put into all of this.

 _Crassula ovata_ , his system offered. Also known as jade plant.

‘You know… you, Sumo and I, we are already 3 different kinds of lifeforms, so I thought... why not add a 4th one to this household’ Hank had been standing at the doorframe, watching him, and when Connor turned back around to look at him, he wanted to say something, do something, but he still just would not have been able to express the exact ways and the amounts of what he felt for him at that moment.

Because this man.

This mess of a man, who was harsh and unpredictable and cursed his way out of everything and was aggressive and shouted and attacked people and acted like this big dangerous man on the outside…

This man cared so much and was so kind and warm and tender inside, it was almost not possible.

He called Sumo a sweetheart, but the truth is, that that was exactly what _he_ was.

A sweet man with a sweet heart.

‘Is it all okay? I tried making it look as nice as it could be’ Hank gestured around at the room, voice apologetic.

‘ _Okay_?’ Connor repeated, disbelief almost dripping from him ‘Hank, this is… I don’t know what to say. You are being way too good to me'

Hank waved at him, already dismissing everything that he just said and was about to say.

‘Listen, all the things I’m doing for you are the most basic things anybody can do for another person, it’s really not a big deal’

But for Connor, it was a very big deal. Even more so when he registered what Hank just said to him.

_Another person._

He could almost hear his own heart start beating a bit faster and he could definitely feel his face transform into an expression which was probably the closest thing to the word _beaming_.

Because he did become unnaturally happy at the verbal confirmation of him being _a person_. That felt really good. So casual, so fitting. So easy, so accurate.

He tried to surpass that expression though, because those were already way too many feelings out in the open on his face like that, and he usually didn’t let half of those even scrape the surface. Not that there was ever a reason for them to appear in the first place.

But anyway, he did try to bury that facial expression deep down, but only ended up looking down at his hands, still looking well… not neutral.

Not having any actual control over how much he was sharing with the world around him? That was new. And scary.

At some point he had to figure out all of those feelings that he had inside of him, that was for sure.

But there was no time for that at that moment, not when the two of them were just standing there, facing each other, eyes locked and not a word being said. With Hank in his bathrobe and his pajamas, ready to sleep and Connor in sweatpants and a T-shirt… it didn’t get more casual than that.

‘You gonna be okay, here?’ Hank asked, almost like he was stalling, delaying the moment they needed to say good night and leave each other’s side.

Like he didn’t actually want to let him go.

Coincidentally, Connor didn’t want to let go of him either.

He answered his question then with a single nod. Because of course he was going to be okay.

‘Alright’ that’s all Hank said and then they just continued to stand there, just looking at each other, both waiting for something, that was clearly not going to happen. Mostly because neither of them wanted to do anything, they just…  they were just both waiting for the other to do the things they themselves were too scared to do. Maybe too scared to even admit they were even thinking about these aforementioned _things_.

‘Do androids dream?’ Hank asked suddenly and that took Connor aback just a little.

‘No, we don’t dream. At least not in the sleeping-sense’ he explained, not entirely sure where this was all going.

Hank then shrugged, as if scratching a thought away.

‘Well, then I _won’t_ tell you to have sweet dreams’

Okay, if he was going to say things like that, Connor was sure he was going to die. Like, for real.

How can a man, that looks like he can rip you to shreds with his bare (and bear) hands in just minutes and then flip you off for taking too much time to die (a weird metaphor, but go along with it), so… how can a man look like that and still manage to be so damn adorable?

That shouldn’t be possible. That is a damn paradox.

‘What are you smiling at like that?’ Hank asked, amused at the picture that was unfolding in front of him. And Connor had to realize, that he did in fact start smiling. And he didn’t even notice. Hm.

‘You’re full of surprises, Hank Anderson’ he said, simple as that.

Hank snickered a bit.

‘And you’re weird, Connor the robotman’ he stated.

But they still didn’t move. Not closer, not even further.

* * *

 

After Hank went to bed, Connor was left alone in _his_ room (that was still a weird thing to be able to say). And now, finally having enough time to try and really think about what the fuck was going on, he settled down on the bed, back to the wall, hugging a pillow to his chest.

Because something was going on, there was no doubt about that. And maybe it was time he finally faced these things, especially if he wanted to continue to act like a normal fucking person. So he sat down and started thinking. Assessing the situation.

Because what the _fuck_ was the problem?

Well, let’s start with the things that can be tracked, the things that left a print in his code, in his system: like the chest pain.

Oh, that chest pain. The biggest what the fuck of it all.

Which he was now going to analyze to the death. Just as a probably higher power (or just his programming) intended.

First of all, he knew, that that weirdly painful thing only ever occurred when he was in conversation with Hank. The situation usually went like this: they started talking about something important, something emotional, that neither of them found an easy thing to do, and then inevitably Hank ended up saying something meaningful to him, and to that, Connor started… hurting?

No, not hurting, something else.  Or maybe yes, he started hurting too, but he also felt something else. What is that something else?

‘ _Something_ ’ his processor offered, very fucking helpful, and he felt like he was honest to god going to scream in frustration at that point.

 _‘Something is not a feeling’_ he taunted himself again, rubbing at his forehead, attempting to calm his system a bit.

Okay, so going down that lane, it became pretty obvious, that there just wasn’t any actual tangible information about that strange anomaly, meaning that he had to just. Speculate. On things that didn’t make sense and also didn’t have names. Great.

So, okay, let’s just go with it: there’s something there, that makes him experience _physical_ chest pains, which then makes him want to…

Wait, it makes him want to _do_ something?

No, he _can’t_ do something, and that’s when the pain comes…?

Or both?

…this is useless.

But this was also the only track he had, so he was just going to keep following it.

Next thing he knew for sure was that the pain usually went away or transformed into something else, when Hank reassured him, or more like. When he touched him. Or when he was close.

Hm.

Interesting.

 _We also know,_ he speculated, _that this pain is related to the warm feeling that arrives every time I… well, when Hank does something I appreciate._

‘When he does something you _love_ ’ his CPU offered, and he grimaced, but didn’t deny it. Because yes, there were a lot of things that Hank did that Connor loved.

And love had a lot of meanings, and yeah, he knew he cared about Hank. Duh.

But anyway, hard to swallow or not, facts are still facts, so he had to accept that the chest pain must be connected to that somehow…

_Maybe when he does something I don’t appreciate, it… that can’t be, when does he ever do anything like that? Never._

But when he gets the chest pain, he never says anything wrong. Rather contrary, he says something so right, it makes Connor… it makes Connor…?

 _Why is my mind blank every time I think about this?_ he asked himself, but there was obviously no one there to answer.

So he just analyzed the shit out of his feelings and that didn’t work. And if that doesn’t work, then there is clearly something very wrong going on, he concluded.

He let out a big sigh, while he inspected the whole room again, just to have something to do. And that’s when his eyes trailed across the pile of books. All of the books. But specifically those two that he still hadn’t got around reading yet.

He got up then, and got the one closest to him, turning it around, examining it.

Iliad by Homer. An ancient literary piece (literally).

He flipped it open and randomly looked at a page, looking for some kind of guidance, some kind of explanation. The first sentence, trying to offer him just that was this:

_‘Speak out; hide it not in thy mind; that we both may know.’_

In an instant, as if he just got burnt by the words, he flipped across the book again, but this time violently, with a jerky motion.

Because no, that was not possible. Just simply not possible.

There are things people talk about, and there are other things that people never even mention.

Not everything needs to be out in the open. And that’s also not really the advice he was looking for.

His harsh flipping around resulted in him settling down for one particular page, then mustering up the courage, he somehow made himself read the words in front of him.

And with fingers following the line of the sentence, it was almost like a lightning bolt crashed right into him, but instead of shutting him down, it powered him back up again, making him able to think rationally, see everything oh so clearly again.

_’There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.’_

The pulsing rush of Longing.

The pulsing rush of Longing.

Longing. Longing. Longing.

Love.

_Shit._

It all made too much sense.

It wasn’t supposed to be this clear-cut, was it?

Before this, he never felt like he could just… that he could just call it love. Somehow what they had, (or more like, what _he_ felt) didn’t feel like it could be contained by that word alone. Like there was more to it, like it couldn’t be that easy.

But then and there, sitting in the dark room, with little to no noise around to block those emotions and thoughts that he would’ve rather not thought about before… he found an explanation. And it sounded like a truth. The truth.

It seemed perfectly fitting. _Perfectly_.

He was longing. For him. He wanted him.

And the longing hurt. Not being close hurt. Not touching him hurt.

Hurt, hurt, hurt.

The chest pain.

>>>FANTHOM OBJECT NOT FOUND<<<

It all made too much fucking sense… _Hank_ was the so called “fanthom object”. Simple as that. There was never any actual problem with Connor, this wasn’t an error, it was just the only way his system could categorize the longing he was feeling. And it was rational. And it made sense.

But it still took him ages to realize just how fucking simple that all was.

And still, he was not sure of anything. Wasn’t sure, that he wanted any of this, and wasn’t sure, that he didn’t miscalculate.

Maybe he could make this all go away?

Maybe… maybe if Hank touched him more often, this wouldn’t continue being a problem?

Maybe…

No no no, that was impossible, he… he surely didn’t…

Hank was his friend. Nothing more.

That’s how that was supposed to be. Supposed to stay.

He had to accept it already, or it might’ve made him go out of control and do something stupid that he might end up regretting.

And also, that longing didn’t _have to_ mean love, right? He could still just… not be in love, right?

…

He needed to think. He needed to never think again.

He needed confirmation, but he also didn’t want it. This was already too much information that he would probably be far better off without knowing.

But he discovered this now, so there was no way to really hide away from it anymore.

He ruminated on everything for a while, checking every information twice, running a full scan on his reactions, trying to find an irregularity, something that would finally confirm that he might be in the wrong.

But there was not one single thing that stuck out that could’ve contradicted his initial thought.

_Goddammit._

He didn’t even know why he was doing what he was doing, when he pulled up his contacts and looked for Simon’s serial number. When he found it, he initiated the call with a simple blink, then waited for a few seconds for him to pick up.

Because, well, if anybody could help him with this type of situation, then that was Simon. Full stop.

‘Connor? Is everything alright?’ he heard his voice come from the other side of the line, worried like a mother is for her children.

‘I don’t know. Do you remember when we were at the party and you asked me who I was having too many feelings about?’ he asked, straight to the point.

This time he was going to speak. Because Simon was the only one who might have actually understood everything that he was going through. Who might have had answers. But for him to answer, Connor had to first ask his question. Without bullshitting. Without hiding.

‘Of course I remember, you ran away and didn’t tell me anything’ Simon answered, clearly very confused, but deciding to just go with the flow for the time being and only _then_ ask questions.

‘I think… I think I know what’s going on now, but I need your input’ Connor was talking about this like it was some kind of professional matter, like he didn’t just call him in the middle of the night without no explanation whatsoever, voice bordering on being panicky, while still being mostly steady.

‘Oh?’ is all he said. An invitation. Could be translated to ‘please for the love of god and rA9 start fucking talking already ‘cause I have no idea what is going on’.

‘I just’ Connor started, but then he got so worked up, he needed to stop for a second. He exhaled, then inhaled. Then exhaled again ‘I need you to tell me what love feels like’

Simon hesitated for exactly 5.43 seconds. He was taken aback by that request, Connor could tell.

‘I don’t think this…’

‘Please, Simon, I need you to help me out with this’ he was practically begging at that point. Simon sighed then and made a noise that was a weird mix of irritated, worried and… convinced.

‘Okay. Being loved or being _in_ love?’

‘Being in love’ Connor specified, hands fidgety from the anticipation.

‘Well, it varies, depending on people but for me it’s like… it’s like an unstoppable force. Whatever you do, it’s there, pushing you towards a person, and even if you wanted to run away from it all, you wouldn’t be able to, because that push is just too strong. And if you can’t be together with that specific person, it feels like you are moving against that force and it makes you, well. It makes you feel a sort of physical pain, like you aren’t supposed to do that, aren’t supposed to be separated from them, like your sole reason on Earth is to get close to them, as close as you can get. And there’s no way you can fight it, it just takes you down until you are begging for just a touch of their hand, or basically anything to get a confirmation that they might feel the same way. And at first it’s scary and you don’t even want to admit to yourself that you are in love, but then when you start actually daydreaming about, well… doing stuff with them, it kind of becomes undeniable. There’s always a point when it’s just simply undeniable’

There was a beat of silence, also known as the exact moment when Connor lost his entire goddamn mind.

‘Shit’ he blurted and then instantly hung up, without any explanation.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to stop his thoughts, and that nervous bumping in his chest.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked for a confirmation. Maybe he should’ve just let it all go, because knowing that he was right, knowing that what he was feeling was a common thing and oh so very clear-cut and not as cryptid as it first seemed…

That was shit. Like, worse than shit. That was a fucking disaster.

When did this all happen? When did this all develop and become this mighty thing? How did he miss it?

But he did know that he didn’t actually miss it. He just deliberately ignored all of it until it became so big and strong, that there was no way he could keep it under lockdown anymore.

 _Shit_ , indeed.

He got up, and made his way towards the door. This all needed to end, he just needed to leave, coming back was a big mistake, he should’ve just stayed with the others and continued to work with them.

Yes, that wasn’t what _he_ wanted, but maybe he lost the privilege of making decisions for himself the moment when he went and just developed all these warm and painful kind of feelings for his fucking _friend_. Who is a human. A human who used to hate androids. Who would probably find the idea of being with him not just disgusting, but fucking repelling.

Okay, maybe not, he was still a good person, he would be nice about it, but still that wouldn’t make it any less embarrassing.

Not that he wanted any of… Oh fuck, of course he wanted all of that, shit, shit, fuck.

Maybe it didn’t matter what he wanted though, because maybe he didn’t want to be himself anymore. Maybe somebody else’s life would’ve been better, less… this. Less of this, yes, thank you, that’s what he needed.

Just to get away from this, just run, run, run.

He walked, lifting one leg, then the other, walked, and walked and walked and he was already out of the house, and then he took a couple more steps and he was at the edge of the street, only just 6.34 meters away from the porch. There was heavy snow falling from the black sky and it drenched his clothes completely but he didn’t care, didn’t even notice.

He saw a bus pull up at the end of the street and he knew he could make it if he wanted to, so he took up a pace and started running. The only thing in his mind then was _get away from all of this, while you still can. Just go, go go go._

But then he suddenly stopped, like he just got pulled back by invisible strings. Strings, attached to his chest, pulling. Gentle, but suffocating.

He imagined how sad Hank would be if he found his room empty in the morning. After all the promises of staying, all the promises that this was what he actually wanted. After whispered words that meant far much bigger things than they could’ve ever comprehended. After all of that warmth and smiles and laughs and comfortable silences and…

His chest hurt, much more than ever before. Excruciatingly, and he wanted to scream and throw a tantrum and do all those things he never did before.

This was an impossible decision.

Go and leave behind something you really don’t want to leave behind, just for the sake of hiding away from possible rejection. But still end up hurting the other person while saving yourself.

Basically: sacrifice the other person’s feelings for the sake of your own feelings being protected. To an extent.

Or stay and face rejection and accept it when it comes.

Basically: sacrifice yourself for the other person’s feelings.

He wanted to make Hank the happiest man on earth, but let’s be honest, he already looked well enough. Did he really need him anymore?

No, he didn’t. Connor could just leave, that would be easier, a lot easier actually, and they could just both forget this every happened, and it would be alright, they could continue to just live, yes, that made sense.

But still. Still. Still.

He was standing still, while the bus door opened and the driver looked at him expectantly. He knew he had to take his chance while he still could.

But he didn’t move. He just stood there, chest pulsating under the pressure. It paralyzed him.

‘No no no, come on, you can do it’ he muttered to himself, voice desperate, but he couldn’t take another step anymore.

Well, he could’ve but he… he really didn’t want to. Virtually, and physically and mentally speaking nothing was stopping him. But somehow, yes, there was something that was stopping him.

The unstoppable force of his own making.

He could’ve just left; it would be okay. He would continue to work with Markus and that would be okay. Hank was already getting better without him. He would be okay.

Okay.

But he didn’t want okay. He never wanted all of this to just be ‘okay’. He wanted something better.

He didn’t want to go.

He wanted this with Hank. He wanted it more than anything else he had ever wanted before.

As the door eventually closed in front of his face, he watched the bus leave with a stoic expression. His eyes followed it until it was far gone.

A memory, a smile, words cutting into him like knives resurfaced again and he heard Ms. Peters’ voice inside his head. Calm. Oh, so certain.

_‘_ _You already know who you are, and what you want, you just have to be honest with yourself about those things. At some point, you have to’_

He exhaled and felt a tear escape his eye with that shudder of breath. He brushed it away with his sleeve, then looked at the sky, the snow, the never-ending blackness decorated with small spots of white.

It was time to stop running. It was time for honesty.

After all, no one can run from what’s already inside them, that was just a simple fact.

And Connor, a fact-abiding man, knew not to disagree with facts (on his better days, that is).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor, a state-of-the-art prototype, most advanced android ever created: oh my god!!!!! what could be this strange feeling in my chest :((( i don't understand!!!! it only happens when hank is being real nice to me!!! and when he's close to me and makes me wanna touch him!!!! there just isn't any explanation!!! what am i supposed to do!!! :(((
> 
> (i feel like you need to know that when I typed in ’There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.’ Microsoft Word just really wanted me to change 'man go' to 'mango' and I can't stop laughing about that jkfhd  
> I mean...... the lover's whisper..... magic..... to make the sanest mango mad..... listen, I might be a little bit tipsy but this is killing me kdjshfjgfd)


	5. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey do you ever come home from school with 6 different brick-sized books from the library? cause that shit should be illegal, i'm a criminal on the run, the government can't catch me alive i have exams to study for and i'm ready to kill a man for a B
> 
> the only thing that's keeping me sane in this insane fuckery that is my schedule is writing this fic, and i don't really know what I'm doing but this is...getting longer and longer. one would think i must've run out of things to say by now, but apparently this fandom really just stole my soul and i'm just doomed to talk about dbh for the rest of my life.  
> and i'm okay with that dgjkfd
> 
> i hope exam season is treating you better and i wish you all the strength to power through it all, we can all do it, i believe in us <3

Connor had a long night of sitting around and just thinking, walking around in the kitchen, rearranging the shelves, casually making a shopping list, which he then wrote down on a piece of post-it-note, that he then stuck to the fridge, perfectly visible for Hank to see in the morning.

He was just doing whatever came his way, only to do something while he was busy ruminating on the things he’d discovered. On the things he always kind of suspected, but never ever said out loud.

On the things that were definitely going to change how he acted in his day to day life now.

Because the revelation he had that night changed everything. Honestly.

For a while, all he did was pace around, ending up waking Sumo in the process, who instantly barked at him in pure confusion, demanding that he go up to him and show him that there wasn’t any actual problem to panic about. So he did do that to shush him before he woke Hank and made this even more difficult, than it already was. But then, after several minutes of tending to the poor old jumpy heart of Sumo, he got up from beside him and as he walked around a bit more, it was all starting to feel… not that bad.

Well, he was still anxious and angry and irritated and done with himself, but still, after a while, slowly, but surely, with every passing second it started to all feel okay again.

Maybe because the whole situation didn’t feel illogical anymore. It was quite the opposite: it was logical and factual and it was backed up by strong evidence. And he always appreciated when things lined up so perfectly. Just from an aesthetic point of view.

And he also found that after the revelation, he also had an easier time controlling his feelings. Mostly because it didn’t feel like he was trying to keep a ferocious beast inside that was snarling and ripping his mind to pieces anymore.

Because what he discovered was nothing more, just a truth, a simple fact.

The simplest one, but definitely the hardest one to swallow.

A fact, that was so central, that every other fact was working hard to realign itself in a way that they could fit themselves to the core truth. Because if they didn’t they would’ve got scratched away. Because nothing else mattered now.

So one could say that that might’ve been the most important fact, that he ever found.

And even after all this build-up, all this thinking about it, all this pacing around, he still couldn’t make himself admit to it, not out loud.

He still couldn’t make himself say the words, couldn’t even find the courage to just mutter them under his breath in the comfort of the dark kitchen.

But it was all true, and he knew it for a fact now:

He loved Hank Anderson. He most definitely did.

He loved him, with every fake-breath he took and with every fake-heartbeat he produced.

He loved him so warmly, so tenderly, his own mechanic heart and his own built-in chest area was overheating itself without his permission, without his control.

His system was producing heat so warm, it gave him new instructions. New needs. New dreams.

It made him want to scream and it made him want to laugh, but most of all, it made him want to step closer.

To close the distance, in every possible way imaginable.

But all that aside, he also definitely knew that it didn’t need to mean anything. That that intoxicating fact could just live in his head for the rest of his life and he would never have to actually confess to it out loud.

But all at the same time he also knew that he had to accept it at least, even if only in his own head, that this was the undeniable truth. That this was something that he couldn’t fight, because it was simply a part of him, as is being snarky or thinking analytically, or overthinking. Or liking books, or hating being read like an open book.

Just a fact. That’s it. One fact in-between countless other facts.

Well, a scary one. An uncontrollable one.

But still just a fact.

And after he came to all these conclusions he realized quite quickly that while he’d just been dramatically running around, he didn’t notice that he’d got several missed calls from not only Simon but Markus too, all demanding him to pick up the damn phone. He grimaced then, but took the next call that came from Simon and listened to his worried voice, ordering him to start speaking immediately.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m alright’ he said, and Simon, upon hearing his voice, exhaled loudly. He could hear him whisper a _‘he’s okay’_ to the side, probably to Markus.

‘Connor… what is going on? Are you okay? And don’t bullshit me or I’ll show up at the Lieutenant’s house and won’t leave you alone until you tell me’

Connor swallowed, mostly for the motion, considering, that he literally didn’t have anything to swallow at all.

‘Simon, I promise you that everything is okay. I’m just not sure I want to talk about it right now, I’m sorry’ he said, then realized that there was something probably missing from that sentence, so he added ‘but thank you, you really helped me tonight’

Simon was not just a bit, but very confused after that whole interaction.

But he did eventually accept that he wasn’t going to get any more information out of Connor. He just wasn’t going to.

‘Okay, I’ll leave you alone, but if you need anything, seriously call us, okay? You know we are here’

‘I know, that is why I called you in the first place’ Connor replied, and he meant it.

The night was long and he somehow ended up going into sleep-mode (as Hank would say) at 4 am, only to then wake back up at 7, but that time period spent in stasis weirdly felt like it was enough. Like somehow his mind was so calm, he didn’t need any more time to process things. He did his processing on his own, apparently.

When Hank emerged from his room too, it was only a bit past 8. When he saw him, Connor kept his cool and it was all normal. All of it.

Mostly normal, but a lot more normal than he thought it would be.

Who knew actually facing his feelings was going to help him control everything that was inside? Hm, it’s almost like not repressing these things actually helps deal with them. Who would’ve thought.

He was already sitting at the kitchen, reading the news on Hank’s tablet, when Hank joined him there with a single bowl of cereal, face looking like he had never ever been asleep in his entire life, even though he just had a 9-hour long sleep, which should’ve been perfectly enough.

But not for Hank, apparently.

Connor finished the article he was reading about how ‘the Android rights movement was just a rouse to get everyone to forget about the Russian conflict’, then when he had enough of that pile of crap, he moved on to a much more helpful article, which was specifically written for Androids, about all of the legal matters they had to tend to, before they were granted full citizenship of the USA. He made a handy little list of all of that for himself and made task points for the day to complete.

‘You computin’?’ Hank asked. Aw, Hank. You adorable idiot.

‘I’m planning ahead for the day’ Connor answered, showing him the article he had been reading ‘I think I will start at the Branch Office to get my state-issued identity card, it will take approximately 40 years to complete this task, but it’ll be worth it when I’ll finally be a real life Pinocchio’

At that, Hank just looked at him with a pained expression.

‘Listen, you’re very funny, but I _just_ woke up’ he said, then proceeded to continue eating his cereal like the man-child he was.

‘Do you want coffee?’ Connor asked him, and before Hank could even object, he was already up on his feet, making one. Well, he just needed to push a button and then wait and that even the oldest types of machines could do. And he was the newest one in existence, so one could say he was very over-qualified for this job.

‘So that’s all ya doin’ today?’ Hank muttered the question, all of that coming out a bit gibberish, considering that his mouth still didn’t quite work with his brain being half-asleep.

‘No, I’m also going to meet up with Markus at Cyberlife, to get scanned and have them put me on the database so in case I kill somebody I can be tracked down properly’

‘Fun’ is all Hank said, sarcasm dripping from him.

‘Besides, for some reason Markus really insisted that I come over and talk with him, which I find odd, but I’m guessing it’s just to walk me through their progress’

‘Hm’ Hank grumbled. One of his finest answers.

‘I also have to start a bank account at some point, but to do that first I need to get some money, but for that I need to make a bank account, but for that I need money to make that bank account but for that…’ Oh no, a paradox. He was already spinning out of control.

Paradoxes… did not do good things to androids.

‘Okay, stop’ Hank raised his voice, then when Connor did in fact stop, he continued ‘I’ll lend you my credit card so you can transfer whatever money you need’

 _Stop making me feel things_ , Connor groaned mentally, only slightly irritated, because mostly he was just very thankful.

Before he could say anything, Hank was already waving at him to not even mention it, so he didn’t. He just waited until the coffee was done, then he poured it out into a mug and handed it to Hank, who, upon grabbing the mug that was pushed into his hand, looked like he just saw god himself in the coffee’s swirly black void.

‘Thank you for saving my entire life’ he mused, eyes so bright so suddenly, Connor’s chest of course started to hurt, but what else was it supposed to do, when somebody (no, not somebody. Hank.) looked at him like that, and said those words, even if just jokingly. These things were all bound to happen. Facts. Easy.

He let go of the mug, turned around and sat down. Easy motions.

Easy, easy, easy.

While Hank slowly drank his coffee, his brain was slowly starting to clear up and so he started speaking in complex sentences again.

‘I’m gonna tell Jeffrey you’re back, so he can put you in his schedule. Assert my dominance and tell him I ain’t gonna work with anybody else and that is a fact’

‘You’ve been doing great while I was gone, I wouldn’t think you really need a partner anymore’ Connor stated. Another fact.

‘I don’t need one, yeah. But I want one’ Hank said, just off the shoulder, like it was easy.

For him, it might have been, but for Connor it all just felt like he just got hit with a brick. Repeatedly.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be as _easy_ as he first thought.

But he did appreciate what he said. It damn near killed him, he appreciated it so much.

‘You want me to take you to the Branch Office?’ he then asked, again so simply, like being this kind and generous was the norm. Connor felt his eyes widen while he tried to process all of this.

‘You would do that?’ he asked, surprise clear in his voice.

‘Of course, I won’t let you fucking walk there’

And there was indeed no point to object, so he didn’t.

They both got dressed, separately putting on very different types of clothing (Connor went for a very plain, very light blue shirt, carefully tucked inside black dress pants, while Hank chose jeans and a shirt with… pineapple prints. Why? When has god left us?).

They both put on their coats, then were ready to go, but before that, Hank, almost as an afterthought, stopped Connor in his tracks and fixed the collar of his shirt.

A perfectly useless motion.

Still, he let him do that, and made sure not to stare into his face while he did that. Meaning he was just looking away. Still. Not moving one inch.

‘You’re acting weird today, everything alright?’ Hank asked then, eyes narrowing. Connor faked a smile.

‘Of course’ they both knew it was a lie, Hank was a good detective, he knew how to read people. And more so, he knew how to read Connor.

And Connor knew that. But he wasn’t going to tell the truth, not when it came to… this.

Hank eyed him for one more second, but then let it all go, thinking that if Connor wanted to talk about it, he would.

* * *

 

‘When does your shift end today?’ Connor asked, perfectly emotionless.

Hank shot him a look, trying to decipher what the fuck was going on, but when he yet again didn’t find any indication of him wanting to talk about it, he just answered, acting like he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

‘4 pm if they don’t decide to throw some extra shit at me’

Connor considered that.

‘Then I’ll be back at the house way before you. Is there any work around I should get done while you’re gone?’

Okay, _that_ was very machine-like. Weirdly so. Where’s the taking the piss at him and wittiness and overtly-emotional reactions?

Hank stared at him, but then he realized that maybe driving required his eyes to stay on the road, so he just decided to go along with all of this. Again.

‘I mean you don’t have to do anything, you’re not a maid’

‘That is quite correct, I actually don’t have any of the usual programming a household android has, so I couldn’t possibly be a maid’ Connor said, still acting very robotic, with carefully chosen words, no personality to it.

‘Wait, like. You can’t cook and stuff?’ Hank asked, a bit confused. These androids just didn’t make any sense to him. Whatsoever.

‘I could purchase the program but considering that that is a perfectly separate one, it might seriously damage my core program. Which is not the preferred state, because I just started living and I really don’t want to get corrupted right away’ Connor explained, and Hank exhaled a bit. Okay, that was teasing. He’s fine, he didn’t get reset or any other shit. Thank god.

‘Okay, jeez just say you don’t wanna wash the dishes, it’s easier’ he teased back, trying to keep Connor out of that scarily machine-like state.

‘It’s not that I don’t _want_ to help around the house. I want to, in fact. But I have to learn the motions manually, like humans do. But because I’m not meant to be good at it, I might turn out to be absolutely helpless at it’

‘Wait. Does that mean you’ll find things that you’ll suck at?’

‘That is… exactly what I just said’ Connor replied, confusion clear on his face.

‘Oh my god, _finally_. I can’t wait to see you fuck something up, my human ego needs it’ a joke, a clear one, something that Connor never before left unanswered, something that he usually shot back at him for.

But not now. He was just silent. Face unaffected, looking out the window.

Wait, where was his well-deserved complete destruction? Where was that smug smile, words that will shut him right the fuck up? Why the fuck wasn’t Hank getting absolutely annihilated right now?

The silence stretched.

‘But you know that you really don’t need to do anything, right? Just do shit you wanna do. Maybe it’s better you can’t cook and shit so I don’t have to worry about accidentally using you for… whatever or anything’ Hank said, shrugging all over the place, trying to get his point across.

‘There’s no way you could be using me, Hank’ Connor said, with his usual honest directness ‘and I really do want to try to help out. Then maybe I won’t feel like I’m useless’

‘You aren’t useless’ Hank corrected him, almost immediately.

‘You know what I mean’ finally a crack on his face, finally some emotion.

Was this the thing that bothered him? Why he was acting so weird?

…maybe, Hank concluded.

Well, if he just wanted things to do, he could give that to him. There was no reason to be all robotic about it.

‘If you really want to do something around the house, I guess um… Sumo could use a walk. If you want, you can take him out. And also… this is not obligatory at all, but if you could throw some pasta in some water and open a jar of spaghetti sauce, that’d be great. But you really don’t have to do it, okay? Just. If you don’t have anything else to do, there you go, these are things. To do’ Hank stumbled upon words and then even more words, wondering how he got to the ripe age of 53 without learning how to actually fucking talk.

But it didn’t matter, because Connor seemed to like the fact that he at least decided to answer and well. He liked when Connor liked things. Specifically, when he got to be the one who did the stuff that Connor liked.

Despite Hank telling him that it’s not obligatory, Connor still ended up adding those points to his task list, somehow feeling better just by the fact that he had things to do now, and so he wouldn’t end up being locked up in his thoughts, ruminating and overthinking, for at least while he was getting those things done.

And well, he did have a considerate amount of stuff to do that day. At least that could be a good distraction.

Why did he _need_ to think about it anyway? It was all done, all thought about.

He knew the _facts_.

So there was no need to think about them anymore.

It was time for tasks, not useless emotions.

(Sorry emotions, you know he doesn’t mean that, he’s just upset because he sucks at accepting you.)

* * *

When hours later Connor finally got back to the house, his head felt like it was about to spin out of control and just simply light on fire from all the firing thoughts he had inside his head.

There was too much to think about still, but at least none of that was about his… initial personal crisis.

No, he had other things to think about now, and well, maybe that morning he would’ve killed for something new to have a dramatic pace around the house about, but now… now he really regretted ever wishing for anything like that.

Because he just got back from Cyberlife and he was definitely feeling a lot of things, all at the same time.

Confused. Panicky. On edge. Just to name a few of his most prominent feelings on the whole issue.

Starting from the beginning: after he got his ID photo done (on which he looked positively constipated), he called a taxi to take him to Cyberlife and when he arrived, Markus literally pulled him into a bear hug, telling him all sorts of things, like how worried they all were and how glad he was that he’s okay, all which he appreciated, but also… didn’t need at that moment. He told Markus that he really was alright and that he was sorry for keeping them up, to which Markus looked at him like he was insane. Saying, that they would rather he kept them up than end up doing something stupid.

Connor then wondered if anything he ever did in life could be classified as _not_ stupid, but then they needed to get going so he didn’t really have time to really ponder on that.

At first they walked around the facility, while Markus updated him on everything. The temporary housing was going well, people were settled and were doing way better than ever before. There also hadn’t been any protests since they came back. Things seemed peaceful, he saw quite some androids walk around, talking to each other, adults playing with children, just. Perfect. Like a little utopia.

It probably was, now that he thought of it.

They also looked inside the hospital area, where Connor got a glimpse of not very every day kind of things. Like the UV400 whose entire right hand component was being reassembled by a building machine, but when it was all done, he could still only move his hand slightly. The pain on his face spoke volumes.

Connor looked away quickly and tried to focus solely on Markus, who told him that while most of the patients they had could be repaired easily, there were some uncommon instances, with which they really couldn’t help with. Androids, damaged to a point, where if they shifted parts around, to try to make them look their old selves again, they would’ve probably just done even more damage.

Like that case, with a completely burnt android, whose CPU and Thirium pump somehow survived and she managed to get herself inside Cyberlife with some help, where they tried to treat her, but she was far too damaged for them to really do anything with the current body she was locked in. The only possible solution was to transfer her mind into a new Android. And she accepted the terms, consented to the transfer, but when they went along with it, she woke up without absolutely no memories. She was gone. Well, she survived, but her previous life and personality was gone. Markus told all this to Connor with visible guilt and Connor felt the need to reach out and tell him he did what he could in a situation nobody should be in.

And he did reach out then. He clasped his shoulder and told him just that and he could tell Markus was really by that gesture.

Sometimes, well, definitely not always, but _sometimes_ he did the right thing. Sometimes he knew he was doing something good and he felt good about that.

Sometimes.

Then he shifted the conversation away from all of these heavy topics, and instead asked about how the others were doing.

That cheered Markus up considerably. That was a relief for Connor too, because it clearly indicated that all of them were most probably fine. Thank God. Or rA9. Still whatever.

Markus told him that Josh’s been helping him out a lot with just talking to people and helping them find careers that best suit their skills and their needs. He turned out to be a great counsellor too. So basically the fact that he was a people person helped all of them out greatly.

Not that Markus wasn’t a people person. He was just… another kind of people person. He couldn’t sit down and talk about problems, because he was more of a solution kind of guy.

You got a problem? Here’s how you fix it.

But after living through traumas and having multitude of psychological issues, you can’t really get an easy solution, you have to work through it. Slowly. And Josh happened to be just the guy to go around listening to people and giving them his understanding.

While Markus was talking about him, Connor could see, that he really respected Josh. After everything, they ended up kind of co-piloting the revolution, but despite that, they both somehow seemed to agree that Markus was the leader. All around. Josh was his most trusted adviser, yes, but he still never tried to take over. He was peaceful. He was a helping hand.

But he also never had the balls to do anything too risky. If Markus didn’t do the things he did, they would’ve probably already rusted away inside Jericho, dying slowly.

They all knew that. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t the one with the most realistic ideas.

North… well, they all knew North.

North was a fucking loose cannon, but North was also assertive and fearless and ready to do anything if it meant they would survive. She was ruthless, but also compliant, when need be. She made herself heard, but if people disagreed with her, she accepted that and used her anger to fight in the way the others told her to fight.

North was literally the complete opposite of Josh. Willing to do anything, but too violent. At least they balanced each other out. Or one would think they did (Markus mentioned that since they’ve been back, North had been non-stop pranking Josh, who, in-turn was getting more and more annoyed and then at some point he snapped and they had an actual big argument, which ended in Simon having to step in-between them, but then North, desperately wanting to have the last word, just screamed so loud at them, people in the facility thought there was an earthquake. Later, when asked about it, she just told Markus this was the only way she could instill dominance, so obviously she did it. Markus didn’t ask her about it anymore).

And well, on the topic of North, Markus mentioned that she had also been working around, but on more of a private level. Meaning that she had started a group session for those Androids, who had been used in sex slavery. She now had a whole ballroom size place in the facility, with punching bags and human shaped dolls for… well, anger reasons. She was also working on a little side-project, wanting to start a self-defense class for those, who feel the need to regain power over their body. It would be a way to feel powerful again, in control again.

Markus expressed that initially he didn’t think that punching things and each other was the right call there, but to that North just replied _‘punching things is the only thing that keeps me alive’_ and then left him there without another word.

So the classes were definitely going to happen at some point, whether Markus liked the idea or not.

And honestly, Connor was really happy to hear all of that, and most of all, to hear that North was doing okay and that she was healing, while also helping others to heal. She deserved to have things to punch, is what he was saying.

He wondered where she was then, and wondered if it would be okay to visit her too, but Markus told him she wasn’t in the facility then, because she dashed off to have a meeting with one of their suppliers, who called her a ‘bitch’ on the phone.

Connor looked horrified for a second.

‘You know that she is going to kill him, right?’ he asked, but to his surprise Markus just shrugged.

‘He had it coming. And she knows how to safely dispose of a body. Until she doesn’t get caught, it’s not my problem’ he answered, ever so calm. Connor was about to lose it.

But he also noticed that Markus hadn’t said anything about Simon yet, so he decided to do what he did best instead.

Push him towards sharing something he was a bit on the edge about. Yeah. His specialty.

And so he just simply asked about him, which resulted in Markus smiling a so nauseatingly happy smile, he had to look away to try to control himself and not get jealous of what they had. At least not right away.

He told him immediately, that everything was going well, they were happy and that he had already introduced him to Carl. Just yesterday, in fact. And that Carl absolutely loved Simon, just as much as he did. They spent the night talking with him, sitting by his bedside, telling him stories from the journey. They also both moved in to the house and even though everything was still very new between them, they were both somehow just so casually good together, it really was a relief, because, he admitted to Connor, he was scared that he would be a lot more vulnerable if he ever gave into this.

But that wasn’t the case, he didn’t get any less powerful, he just felt happier. Calmer now, that he could at least relax when they were at home.

And Simon too, of course, found a place in the facility: he was the one who reviewed all of the Androids who came in, and so he was the first person people could talk to, when they stepped inside. He gave them the directions and gave them everything he could. Meaning housing, clothing, resources, whatever they needed.

And he was good at that. He was also always a people person. But in a very different way than Josh:

Josh was wise and knowledgeable, a well-read individual who could distinguish right from wrong and could apply that to a multitude of things when trying to help people.

Simon… Simon just wasn’t like that; he didn’t have the scientific knowledge, he just understood people very well just by a practical standpoint.

He was one with the people. He understood them on the level they were at, and not from a higher pedestal, because he was ordinary, like the rest of them. And people needed that kind of support too. Needed to know they were going to be okay, from someone who came from the same places they did.

Markus and Connor just finished talking about all of that, when they arrived at the 41st floor, where Markus arranged a big office area, a place, where the four of them worked around, with big desks pushed to all over the place, with all of their personalities shining through the decorations and the arrangements of their own little workplaces.

Markus, already getting to work, pulled up his already existing file on the Cyberlife database, then after Connor sat down to the opposite side of the table, he asked some quick questions, cross checking data, making sure everything was in its place and there wasn’t any problem with Connor or the information about him.

Then when Connor was all logged up, he thought that that was going to be it and he was about to get going, when Markus looked at him, troubled. Scared. Worried.

And that was the exact moment, when he knew he was going to hear some news he won’t like. News he will think about for the rest of the day, if not the whole week.

News, that had the potential to break him right then and there, if not delivered the right way.

Markus sighed then, looking at his hands, while he steadied himself to make himself say the words he so carefully chose for this occasion. The speech he had been writing in his head for the past two days.

The speech, he completely forgot, the minute he actually had to say it out loud.

‘Connor, I have to tell you something’ he started anyway, making Connor’s heart jump in an instant ‘I should’ve told you when we were on the plane. Josh told me to, but… I wanted you to have at least one day of peace and… anyway, I know that now I’m also just making it all worse by stalling, but… before I tell you anything, I want you to promise me you won’t jump to any conclusions, okay?’

‘That’s not possible, Markus, and you know it’ he said, anxiety already making him frustrated. He shook his head, already irritated by the fact, that Markus still didn’t start talking ‘what is it? You are now obligated by law to disassemble me, because I was built to be evil and you are only catching onto that fact now?’

He was joking, but also so very bitter already. He didn’t even know what this whole thing was about, but he knew it was not going to be fair. He knew he was going to hate whatever Markus was about to tell him.

‘No, of course not, and you weren’t’ Markus said, way too quickly. Clearly indicating, that that something, that he wanted to tell him about had something to do with his safety. Just great.

Markus exhaled then and looked back at Connor, trying to hold eye contact but that just made everything worse.

‘Maybe we should sit at the sofa, that’s way more…’

‘Start speaking’ Connor ordered, voice cold and emotionless and for a moment, Markus honest to god felt a bit of fear emerge from somewhere behind his chest.

‘Okay. Yes, sorry’ he settled back down, and took a deep breath. And just decided to say all the information that he had in his brain, before Connor actually did kill him right on the spot for being unable to say a sentence.

‘You know that if you would’ve been destroyed at any point while trying to accomplish your mission, there were other RK800’s stored away here, lifeless shells that had a working CPU, but no memory card. In case you would’ve been destroyed, they would’ve downloaded your memory to one of the shells, and that Android would’ve continued in your place’ Connor shivered at that thought. Yes, he knew about this, and he used to have no problem with the idea. But now he could’ve vomited even just at the thought of that, if he had the ability to.

‘I am aware’ he answered, trembling inside, but perfectly still on the outside.

‘While we were gone, Josh was reorganizing the space, clearing out the database of any information that was useless to us now. Then, in his deep dive, he came across your file, but instantly something felt off to him about it, because there were some… irregularities. One of them was the fact that there was clear information in your logs about a supposed 20 shells, that were specifically made for your model and they were said to be stored away in a ‘safe area’. Naturally, Josh wondered where they might be now, because you know. Those shells couldn’t just walk out, not without a memory card. So they must’ve been inside here somewhere still, somewhere that he didn’t check before. But then, when he tried accessing other data about where these shells might be located, he got locked out of the system… as in, the system, that we own. Which was protected with the strongest firewalls known to man... he literally had to hack himself back into our _own_ database. Then when he did, an untraceable third party carried out a hacking attempt, trying to lock him out again, but he managed to get back and pull up some walls around the system, before another hacking was to go through. So don’t worry, now we’re in the clear and we’re constantly checking the firewalls, but still… it was strange’ Markus explained, definitely looking a lot more tired than before.

And well, Connor was gently starting to freak out. Because this all had something to do with him, and he didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t want to start thinking about the possibility of getting hacked and hijacked again, no sir. He didn’t want to develop issues about that, not when he was finally back and ready to start his life. Fucking hell, but he was definitely about to panic.

‘But anyway, after that was done, Josh called me, just hours before the press conference, literally after I hadn’t been in stasis for days… anyway, he called me and hooked me on the mainframe, and we decided to snoop around a little together. After a bit we managed to find the corrupted files, which told us that the RK800s where stored in a hidden away part of the facility, behind a door with a lock code. Luckily North was already up too then, and helped us hack ourselves inside, and well, we did, um. Find them. They were there’ Markus hesitated, and deliberately didn’t look Connor in the eyes just then. Which scared him even more.

‘I need you to remain calm now, okay? Because I’m going to tell you something disturbing’ Markus then said, to which Connor definitely did not react in a calm way. No, he started laughing hysterically, with shaking hands. His system was screaming instabilities at him with error messages popping up, but he just ignored all of it.

Who cared anymore.

‘Just fucking tell me, am I going to be hijacked again, or what?’ he asked, fearing the worst, looking like he just lost his entire mind. And Markus, seriously getting worried and scared for (and of) him, in that moment, he just couldn’t say anything. He was just silent, while Connor’s eyes, like blazes, burnt him, demanding him to speak.

He still didn’t, he just shook his head at Connor apologetically, and was about to tell him, that maybe they should walk away a bit, and continue this conversation later, when Connor suddenly slammed his hands on the table, creating a loud bang, making Markus startle ‘I swear to that fucking non-existing god Markus, if you don’t start talking, I’m going to start screaming’

And when he said that, Markus seemed to realize who he was sitting in front of, and so he did in fact start talking.

‘I told you not to jump to any conclusions, we don’t know if this is a threat at all, but…’ he started, but Connor shot him a look for diverting again, and so he just swallowed those words up and finally got to the point ‘when we opened the door, we found all the RK800s, but they were all um. Not functional. And by that I mean, um, they were. There’s no way around this, so I’m just going to say it: they were all shot straight through the CPU’

His voice vibrated between them and Connor’s insides twisted around in a way, that made him feel like he just got sucked in by a black hole, all from inside-out.

Markus didn’t dare stall again, so he just continued, even though Connor really didn’t want to hear anything anymore.

‘One bullet each. Meaning that somebody, who had the lock code too, snooped in way before us and made sure you didn’t have any shells to download yourself into anymore. And one could come to the conclusion that these people are trying to make sure you… that you are destroyed. All of you’

He didn’t realize that Markus had finished talking, because he was already dissociating, leaving his body and mind while trying to find a possible explanation, a way to understand what was going on.

He was scared. Terrified. Not at the thought of not having any other shells anymore. No, that he got over very fast.

What he was terrified of, was the unknown. The fact that he just wouldn’t know if this was Amanda’s doing, or somebody else’s. He wouldn’t know if he’d be hijacked again, until the very moment when it will happen to him.

He just won’t know. He would have no idea.

But he had to steady himself, because feelings could go fuck themselves for all he cared that specific day, and also, this classified as a developing case in his mind and he knew he had to solve it, in order to keep on existing in this reality for a bit longer.

He really, really had to solve it. Or at least try to.

‘Do you know who Amanda is?’ he asked Markus, who narrowed his eyes at that. He was expecting more of an outwardly emotional reaction, and not a literal _‘I don’t give a shit about those maybe-possibly-death-threats, let’s just talk about something else’_ kind of reaction. But well, if Connor wanted to ignore what he just told him, then okay. He could do that. That was way better than him banging his hands on the table and screaming.

‘You mean Amanda Stern? She was the mentor of ex-CEO Elijah Kamski, but she died more than 10 years ago, why are you bringing her up?’ Markus asked, not really getting where this was all going.

‘Because there’s another Amanda’ Connor explained ‘Kamski made an AI, modelled after Stern. That’s the Amanda I know. When I was still just a machine, she was my handler. Designed to keep me on track and review my progress, while also making sure through regular check-ups, that I wasn’t compromised. She also had power over me and could resume control of my programming at any given time, in case I went deviant…’

‘Wait, so when you got hijacked, that was…’ Markus was about to ask, finally understanding where Connor’s thought-process was taking them.

‘Yes, that was her. And when I used the emergency exit to cut all ties from Cyberlife, she just… disappeared. But I don’t know if that destroyed her too, or not. There’s a high probability, that she is still alive somewhere’ when he was done talking, he took in a big breath, then exhaled. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Rapidly.

Markus started to look panicky too, when he got the tablet back into his hands to quickly interface with it and look for logs on everything he just heard. A second later he looked back up.

‘There’s no information about any AI called Amanda’ he said, and Connor felt like his entire stomach just dropped to the floor ‘and that handler system you described? They just call it regular check-up routine’

Okay, this was all starting to look like a conspiracy theory, and Connor didn’t like that. At all.

The panic had then suddenly disintegrated, and because his mind didn’t really know what to do with all that information anymore, it just decided to shut all emotion down, making him feel completely blank. Numb. Nothing in there.

And his stoic expression was back, like it never left. He didn’t care anymore. Because if they wanted him that much, they’d probably get him and he couldn’t fucking do anything about it, could he?

He never could. He was always powerless. A tool. He wasn’t meant to survive anyway. He was disposable. He had twenty shells lined up to take his place. He wasn’t original. He wasn’t important.

He was going to die.

_Shot straight through the CPU._

_One bullet each._

'Well, if I die, I die’ is all he said, that simple sentence making Markus even more worried, than he ever was before. He got up, rounded the table and went up to Connor, to put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head at him.

‘Don’t give up so easily, please. You know we won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll get to the bottom of this’ he said, using his deepest and most persuasive voice, but that time, Connor didn’t care for it. There were no emotions on his face, as he stared back at Markus.

‘ _Nothing_ will happen to you’ Markus repeated, emphasizing every word, to give weight to it all, to make Connor believe.

Connor huffed a bit at that, bitter and angry.

He patted Markus’ hand on his shoulder before he brushed it off and got up, only saying ‘it was good to see you’, before he just walked out of the building.

Because for the first time since he knew Markus, he just wasn’t sure he believed that he was right about this one thing.

And now that he was home, he was more than unsure about the whole thing.

He just… he just couldn’t stop thinking about it all. Because he had been fine. Up until now he had been fine, and he thought he could believe that he would be fine. That the worst was over and he would be able to just live a life, unbothered by all of that shit.

Guess, the universe didn’t let him get away that easily.

Well, maybe he deserved that. Maybe it would be better if he just…

The fuck was he thinking about. Wait, what?

No. Just simply no.

_You want to just leave, not giving a shit about the people who love you? Selfish. Disgusting._

…but also easy.

Too easy.

So very easy…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor, dramatically standing in the rain, avatar the last airbender zuko style, screaming at the universe: I'M A BAD BITCh YA CAN'T KILL ME
> 
> markus: this might be nothing but.... this all could be a death threat against you  
> connor: :)  
> markus: why are you smiling????  
> connor: i've lost all touch with reality so all i can do is this :)  
> markus: ......stop it it's freaking me out  
> connor:  
> connor :))))))))))))
> 
> hank, smiling to himself at work: hmmm what a nice relaxing day i'm having...  
> also hank, now distraught: wAIT I'M WAY TOO CALM SOMETHING'S PROBABLY GOING WRONG RIGHT THIS FUCKING MOMENT, WHO'S DYING WHAT'S HAPPENING FUCK YOU UNIVERSE TALK TO ME YOU ASSHOLE JUST PULL THE TRIGGER BITCH I'M READY


	6. A worrying silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [cws for this chapter: negative self-talk, mention of alcoholism and cravings, mention of blood and dead bodies, detailed and i guess graphic descriptions of ways androids can die]

Connor had to kick himself in the face in a metaphorical way exactly 24 times, but he eventually did get out of his self-inflicted misery.

He was very much an overthinker and also somebody who came to conclusions too easily and he… just kind of assumed the worst. At all times. Just like this time.

But he pulled himself out. Because yes, maybe it wasn’t going to be okay and he was just biding his time before Amanda took over again and made sure that this time he’d be trapped in the Zen Garden permanently, in the cold, until he was frozen and gone.

But right now he didn’t have time to think about that, because he had things to do.

Tasks to complete, chores to tend to.

So it had to be okay. Right now he was back at _home_ and he didn’t have time to care about any possible death threats targeted at him.

Amanda could go fuck herself, though. And if she wanted him that much, she would have to buckle the fuck up, because he wasn’t going to give this life away that easy. Nope. He was a stubborn fucking deviant now and he was going to fight for his right to be just that.

On the bright side though, at least now he had something else to think about, and he could just ignore yesterday’s whole realization about his feelings for Hank.

Not that they mattered. Not that he thought about it at all. Nope.

…but still, as much as he was trying to deny it, he was definitely thinking about both of those things. And they were pulsating in his head like waves of radiation trying to find a way to destroy him, but not quite succeeding. It was all worrying and it made him confused and his head felt heavy and his throat was blocked, like he couldn’t quite swallow the literal nothing, which he was not supposed to have there at the first place. So yes, none of this was ideal, but at least it was _manageable_.

He was still in control, this was his body, and he was commanding the movements it made, and he chose the emotions it ended up letting out. He could control it now; it wasn’t that big of a deal anymore.

But just because he could fight it, it didn’t mean that the fight was easy.

At some point, when just dealing with it quietly wasn’t enough anymore, to distract himself he pulled up his task list and decided to go through it, systematically.

First, he took Sumo on a short walk. Emphasis on _short_ , considering that despite Saint Bernard’s being a large and powerful breed, they only require a moderate amount of exercise (He got that off Wikipedia. He knew his shit, okay?).

After going around a few blocks they got back, both pretty drenched in snow, but Sumo somehow took that to a whole new level. He shook himself the minute they stepped inside, so Connor had to literally run for a towel, trying to stop Sumo from unleashing even more water on the walls.

He was back in an instant, already rubbing him with the towel, which Sumo seemed to take as an act of affection and tried to lick his face. Over and over. He dodged every time, but despite his visible discomfort, he secretly did appreciate the sentiment.

Surprisingly, the walk already did wonders to his mind and he was starting to feel normal again, like he was back to reality. Or more like, he let himself sink into a bit of an ignorant state of mind, but let’s just call that _reality_ for simplicity’s sake.

He checked the completed task, then took his coat off and folded up the sleeves of his shirt, already looking for a recipe to follow because ‘just dump shit together’ as a cooking advice was not good enough for a beginner like him. And for an android like him.

And also, it couldn’t be that hard, right? He could track the time and follow the recipe to a 100% efficiency, and besides that, he was also a fast learner. He would be fine, he concluded.

Aha. Yeah, fine. Sure.

Except no, not at all.

Or to be fair, he did indeed make the food to be ‘fine’, but it was definitely far from being perfect.

And his overachiever personality _hated_ that.

Because yes, he made sure to check the density of the pasta and waited exactly 10 minutes, 0 seconds and 0 milliseconds before turning the fire off under it, just like the recipe told him to, but because it did not specify that he also had to _stir_ it, while it was in the boiling water, he… didn’t. Meaning most of it ended up stuck to the bottom of the pot. So he, frustrated, vigorously clawed all of that off, trying to prevent it from sticking to it forever, and that was at least fine… but this wasn’t the only mistake he ended up making.

Meanwhile, he got the meat out and cut it just the right way, with strong and straight cuts, then added the exact amount of seasoning the recipe told him to add. Except he didn’t make sure to sprinkle it evenly, meaning he just dumped it on it, so the meat ended up having parts that didn’t have any seasoning on it at all. And there were chunks that had… A lot.

So yes, he might’ve been good at computing the necessary steps and checking the timer and following the recipe exactly. But he lacked the actual experience that one could only get by… well, _practicing_.

It all didn’t turn out that bad, though, it was still, as said before, fine, but he couldn’t say he was happy with that result.

He was in the middle of grating cheese with a bit more force than was generally needed, when Hank finally got home, looking exhausted and done with everyone for the day.

But maybe it’s worth mentioning, that when he saw Connor in the kitchen, grater and cheese in hand his expression softened by exactly 46%.

_That’s a good look on him_ , Connor concluded, almost grating the outer layer of his own plastic hand off while he stared at Hank instead of paying attention to his current task.

And Hank; poor, exhausted, working man Hank didn’t even wait until Connor was finished with the grating, he just thanked him for the food, then was already grabbing a plate to scoop a portion on it.

‘It’s not perfect, I did make some mistakes in the process, such as-‘ he started, but Hank brushed him away, not even listening to him.

‘I don’t care, it’s food, I’d literally eat anything at this point’ he said and did in fact just eat the whole thing without complaining, and even said it was good, to Connor’s genuine surprise. Mostly because he was definitely saying the truth, he could read it in his microexpressions.

He concluded that maybe his mediocre attempt at cooking was already a lot better than the shit Hank ate on the daily. Hence the undeserved praise.

(But he did feel at least a little bit good at getting that praise, though.)

When Hank was done, he settled down on the sofa in front of the TV, remote control slightly shaking in his hand, giving away the not-so-secret excitement that was starting to brew in him.

‘The game’s startin’ in a minute, you joinin’?’ he asked, patting the space beside him, inviting Connor to sit with him.

The game…

What game?

Oh! The Game!

Detroit Gears vs. Chicago Bulls. Tonight. Starting in 5 minutes and 34 seconds 05 milliseconds.

He didn’t really have anything else to do, except mope around and overthink his two (2) ongoing crises, but he ruled with himself that he could do that later too, so he gave a sign that yes, he would like to join him and sat down next to him, already researching everything that might be relevant information about sports. Well, _basketball_. Not every sport in the world.

At first, he just inspected the game, not really reacting to anything that was happening. Hank also seemed to be more of a quiet fan, who just enjoyed basketball as a whole and didn’t feel the need to yell about it.

…And that theory of Connor’s was proven wrong the minute Detroit’s team started to act like they never fucking learned how to play basketball, riling up Hank with their dumbassery too.

‘Listen, if Hopps fucks this shot up too I’m gonna be real fucking mad’ Hank warned the present company, meaning Connor and Sumo. Sumo did not give a shit, and Connor didn’t either, he was just kind of amused at the fact that Hank was getting so worked up because of a basketball game.

Not that he wasn’t also disappointed in the team, of course he was, but he was angry in a mathematical kind of way, where he saw, with equations and with geometrical shapes and coordinates where the players went wrong exactly, meaning ankle and wrist movements, lack of focus making them screw up their steps, that sort of thing. He was only angry, because he knew what they should’ve done to score. He knew exactly _how_ they fucked up, and because of that, he just didn’t understand how these professionals didn’t see the problems with their motions the way he did.

Also, Hopps did in fact miss that motherfucking shot.

‘What the fuck is up with him today!?’ Hank yelled, hands gesturing frantically in confusion, then he dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the memory of seeing that hideous attempt at scoring.

‘Is it bad that I kinda really fucking crave a beer right now?’ he asked then, more of a rhetorical question, but Connor was ready to answer either way.

‘Yes’ he answered, simple and succinct.

‘Fucking hell’

‘I can get you some lemonade though’ he offered, but he didn’t even finish talking before Hank waved at him.

‘I can get it myself, but thanks’

‘I’m closer to the kitchen’ Connor pointed out, which prompted Hank to turn away from the TV and jab a finger at him while, to prove his point, did quickly get up and went up to the fridge to pour himself some nice and refreshing lemonade.

‘You’re still not a maid, got it?’ he said, looking at Connor from the corner of his eye, still mainly focusing on possibly not spilling the only beverage that was keeping him alive in this day and age.

‘And I still can’t possibly be one’ Connor reminded him, for the second time that day.

‘Whatever’ Hank muttered, already flopping back down to the sofa, now with a drink in hand.

Connor then focused his vision back on the game. Carter, the best player of the team snatched the ball away and was going fast, clearly putting his talent to work.

‘Come on Carter, my boy, my only hope, please make me proud’ Hank begged from the player who never in this life would’ve been able to hear him.

And Carter went for it, and he was getting closer and closer to the basket, accelerating at a speed only known to a few very lucky humans, when…

‘He can only score if he twists his right ankle exactly 20 degrees to the side while jumping, just so… he didn’t twist it, he’s not going to make it’ Connor stated, talking very quickly, while Hank tried to shush him and shove him away at the same time, thinking that this was just his usual talking shit and that he wasn’t actually computing all that, because there’s no way shit like that could be computed, right?

But then Carter jumped and did in fact…

Not make it.

The ball bounced right off from the basket.

‘Don’t fucking spoil the whole fucking game, you fuckin’ calculator’ Hank yelled, frustrated and tired.

Connor didn’t apologize, just continued to talk about how the parameters of the court and the speed whatever player from the other team was going in would act in his favor when trying to score.

And then that random ass player did fucking score, and Hank buried his face in his head, growling.

‘I fucking hate you’ he muttered into his hand, to which Connor bent forward, trying to look into his face while talking to him, but Hank was already exiting his body and was slowly spiraling mentally onto another plane of existence.

‘Don’t blame me for the fact that our team is losing’ Connor said, still trying to make eye-contact through fingers and hands and hair.

‘ _Our_ team? You’re a traitor, get the fuck outta my face’ Hank pushed him away, suddenly wishing for something a lot stronger than fucking lemonade.

A good ten minutes went down the drain before Carter got the ball again and looked like he was about to work his magic for real this time to get them to their well-deserved sweet sweet victory.

‘It’s his ankle again, he isn’t paying attention to it, but Kenley from Chicago clearly is, so he’s not gonna…’ Connor was about to be a smartass again, but couldn’t finish his sentence fast enough, because Carter jumped way before he anticipated and way higher than he thought his ankle could handle.

And he _scored_.

Connor’s mouth opened in surprise, and didn’t close again, while Hank literally yelled out in his joy.

‘HA! YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD COMPUTE ALL THAT SHIT? YOU FUCKIN’ ASSHOLE YOU WERE WRONG HALELUJAH THANK YOU DETROIT I LOVE YOU! PROVE THIS PLASTIC DICK WRONG AGAIN I’M LIVING FOR THAT’

Connor, mouth still agape tried to find a logical conclusion to how he could’ve miscalculated something this much, but that wasn’t the easiest task, especially when somebody was yelling at him 2 centimeters from his face.

But there wasn’t any explanation, either way.

He wasn’t designed to fail. He just wasn’t. He was supposed to know all and do all, and be good at everything. And there was a time when he was a 100% sure that he was going to succeed, whatever they threw at him.

And the fact that he kept just… not succeeding this whole day, well, that made him very confused and offended and disappointed.

But somehow relieved too. Yes, all at the same time.

Because having flaws was something he wasn’t supposed to have, yes. But you know who were the ones notorious for being flawed?

_Humans_.

And the fact that he was discovering things he was bad at, flaws, miscalculations… that just meant he was a flawed human too.

Which is maybe better than being a perfect machine.

And it was maybe a bit refreshing too to get direct confirmation from the world that he was a person too.

That didn’t mean that he didn’t still mildly feel like he was a useless piece of plastic that couldn’t even do the work he was designed to do, but honestly, even just being able to have that twisting guttural feeling swirl up in him and make him want to crawl into a hole, reminded him that he was still alive and existing.

Even if there was something or someone lurking in the shadows, trying to undo his existence, he was still alive in that one moment. And he had flaws and he was something that wasn’t human, but by definition definitely _qualified_ to be one. And that at least made it all worth it, for now.

‘Oh my god, Denton motherfucking Carter, love of my life, you beautiful man, you fucking legend, you…’ Hank mused, lost in the silhouette of the man who looked like an ant on TV.

_He doesn’t mean any of that, he just likes him as a player, don’t think too much into it_ , Connor told himself, and while he did feel a little unpleasant feeling inside, he made himself shut up and not comment on anything.

Because when he looked at him again, Hank looked so calm and fulfilled and just. Happy. Content.

His eyes smiled with his mouth and he wasn’t about to ruin that moment for him.

More so, because ever since he came home, Connor had been thinking about how much he wanted to tell him about the destruction of all RK800s except himself, but there wasn’t a right moment to really start talking, and then it was too late and suddenly he was withholding information.

Important information about him possibly getting killed in the future.

But how could he erase that real smile from Hank’s face just because he couldn’t deal with all of this shit alone? That would be more than selfish. He would hate himself for that.

All that mattered was that Hank was happy.

Hank was happy and he didn’t need all that shit thrown at him.

Hank was happy, and maybe Connor wanted that more than any reassurance he could get in the world.

* * *

 

Connor was not happy; Hank could tell the minute he stepped inside the house. He had been acting weird all day, but this time he looked… weirder. Unsettled. Bothered. Not there.

And yeah, they watched the game together and he looked fine for the length of that at least.

But the minute they were done, he just went back to that nervous thinking phase, where Hank could just tell that if he’d still have his LED, that would definitely be spinning out in yellow, which meant concentration and processing (he researched that at some point, because… well, just out of curiosity).

But even without the LED, he could tell that Connor was thinking and thinking and thinking. And not saying a fucking word about it.

So Hank, at the end of his frustration decided to at least try to start up a conversation so they would somehow get to what was bothering Connor.

Well, maybe. He didn’t actually know if that would work, but these things seemed to just somehow work between them naturally, so the least he could do was step one figurative step closer and wait for him to meet him halfway.

‘By the way I talked with Jeffrey. Told me to tell you to go in tomorrow for your evaluation’

‘Tomorrow?’ Connor tensed up, voice weaker than usual.

‘Yeah. Is that not good?’

‘No, it is, I just…’ a beat, and another, before his face went back to his usual unreadable coolness ‘Nothing, I appreciate that he’s willing to do this on such a short notice’

_Why. Is he. Being so. Weirdly. Distant._

Hank eyed him for a moment more, trying to read his face, but of course the fucker didn’t even have one emotion on there, fucking Androids and being able to hide behind facades.

His mind then tried to come up with some kind of explanation, something of a catalyst, that could’ve been the reason why Connor was acting the way he did.

At first, he really started to question if he himself did something and therefore fucked up at some point and made Connor be… like this? That wasn’t an unreasonable theory, Hank did fuck up a lot of things in his life, and by a lot, he meant _a lot_ , but this time it still couldn’t have been his fault, he concluded.

And he based that judgment entirely on the fact, that he was entirely, completely, painfully sober and he didn’t remember doing anything particularly wrong.

And well, more so, they didn’t even really do anything together since Connor had been back, they just. Well, they just watched TV and talked.

And talked. And talked.

…

Maybe a little off-track, but on that note: he did like talking to Connor. For some reason he didn’t hate the thought of sharing everything with him, because he could see that Connor actually cared about him. About what he had to say. Well, maybe his own insecurities got the best of him at times and made him think Connor didn’t actually care, but even when Hank acted like an ass to him and pushed him away, he always came back and let him know that he did care.

He knew that pushing him away again and again wouldn’t help him in the long run and so he made the conscious decision (also with his therapist’s help) to try and stop doing that and let Connor in. Just let him know about things that are going on in his head. Or at least try talking about those things too, because Connor had shown him countless times that he wasn’t planning on leaving.

So it was safe to trust him. It was safe to not push him away every time he asked to be let in.

_‘Maybe you should let yourself be cared about the way you secretly care about people’_ the therapist said the other morning and he reacted with a scoff and a headshake, but he did think about what she said afterwards and decided that maybe that wasn’t a completely ridiculous idea.

Well, what would happen anyway? If he pushed Connor away, he’d leave at some point. If he let him in and he still left, then, well… at least he tried? Shit, he was really not good at this.

Especially ‘cause a much darker part of his brain just kept on chanting _whatever you do, people leave, you make them leave, these things never last for you, who cares if he stays either way, when there’s someone who left you already and he won’t ever come back and you should be caring about him right now, what kind of a person goes out of his way to try to forget about his own son, you piece of absolute fucking-_

Deep breath, he reminded himself. They practiced some of those breathing exercises in therapy, just in case he started spiraling again.

Deep breath.

Exhale.

Repeat.

Connor was looking at him then, probably noticing the sudden change of tone.

‘Your heart rate increased significantly. Should I be worried?’ he asked, because obviously he was somehow hearing his heart even while sitting across the room. Yeah, sure, just normal Android shit.

‘No, it’s fine, I’m just old’ Hank replied, straight up lying, literally two minutes after he just pondered upon how much he was letting Connor in, while he was being all… weird.

Because lying or not, fact was that while Hank was opening up, Connor was clearly closing himself off from him and yeah, Hank was starting to get really frustrated of that fact.

Because he didn’t feel like after everything they went through he deserved that. Connor should’ve known that he picked up on shit like withholding information, he was a fucking police Lieutenant, he was good at reading people.

But he also didn’t feel like this was a 100% about him. That Connor just had some kind of issue that he wasn’t talking about. And that maybe he shouldn’t blame Connor for not telling him shit, maybe he should… blame himself? Wait, no, therapist woman will hit him if he does that again.

Hm… let’s see… blame his inability to express to people that he cares about them? That’s probably the one.

Ugh. By the way, how does one ask about other people’s problems again? _How are you?_ _Everything okay? What’s on your mind?_ No, those sound too serious. Yuck, no, he can’t just ask that while they are sitting there in the kitchen, hanging out. Nope, who the fuck starts a deep conversation like that? Messed up people.

‘What’s in that bag over there?’ Hank asked, pointing at a weirdly glowing plastic bag on the kitchen counter, as an attempt to make Connor talk. Little did he know, that he just enabled Connor to take the conversation into a very different direction than Hank was planning on taking.

‘Nothing much, just my blood and body parts’ Connor stated, with a seriousness that made Hank shiver.

‘Your _what_?’ he asked, alarmed.

…Oh wait, he’s an Android. That shouldn’t be that much of a freaky statement. Oh wait, except it was.

‘I told you in the morning that I was going to meet up with Markus. I did, and I decided to bring some spare biocomponents and Thirium from Cyberlife, just in case of an injury. It’s good to plan for these things, especially in our line of work. And I intend on trying to keep myself alive, so you don’t have to worry about me getting hit by multiple cars while running out onto a highway. At least not anymore’

Oh. So he _was_ planning for the long run. Hank stared at him, for some weird reason feeling a very violent appreciation for this funky android with his weird body parts and blue blood, stocking his whatever the fuck, planning to stay with him, planning to not leave.

_Suck on that, you fucking negative self-talk-or-whatever-therapist-woman-calls-you! He’s staying, and he wants this to last too!_

But the joy he felt upon that didn’t actually last very long, because then he started to think about the implication of all of that.

Parts. Blood. Meaning he could get hurt. Like, pretty bad.

He didn’t know why he didn’t think about that before. Well, he did, but Connor just seemed really fucking sturdy and basically unstoppable. So the idea of him being hurt and possibly dying…

Okay, no. Nope. Not going down that lane of thought.

Connor seemed to have read his mind though.

‘Maybe it would be best if I taught you some things about how Androids are built. Just in case’

Yeah. That was a good idea, and after he signaled that he would like to hear about it, Connor was more than happy to hold a private lecture just for him.

‘The very first thing you should know is that Androids don’t actually have body parts, we have biocomponents. Secondly, every biocomponent has a set name and serial number to identify it. Thirdly…’

Hank made sure to listen to every word very carefully, and even though there were parts where he got completely lost, he was sure that all in all he got the gist of everything.

At first Connor showed him the Thirium pump regulator, which he gathered was the Android equivalent of the human heart. That one regulates the heartbeat. Connor then went on a long tangent about how every biocomponent had different types, and therefore it was ‘important to note’ that most hearts wouldn’t be compatible with his model, given that he needed a lot newer one, which was the #8456w.

_#8456w. #8456w_. Hank repeated that set of numbers and one single letter over and over, just to be sure, just to store that away, in case he ever needed to remember that. He hoped he didn’t actually need to, but he was way to paranoid to let that information go, like it didn’t matter.

Meanwhile Connor went on and told Hank, that while there were a number of biocomponents he could lose or detach and still continue living just fine without them, like both of the optical units, his audio processor, all of his limbs, his voice modulator etc.

But.

But if his Thirium pump regulator was to be taken out, he would shut down in exactly 63 seconds. No takebacks. He would just die. All systems would shut down and there wouldn’t be a way to reboot him anymore, because everything would get fried. That’s it.

‘That’s fucked’ Hank expressed, staring at that weird almost-actual-body-part-looking-but-still-too-machine-like thing in Connor’s hands.

‘If you ever have to replace my pump regulator in case I get shot, you twist it clockwise, then remove it, then you get a new one and plug it in, then twist the other way’ Connor explained, slowing his speech, as if that would make it easier for Hank to remember.

He did follow every word he said though, because the thought of Connor dying just because he was a general big dumbass didn’t really sound like something he wanted to live through.

‘I feel like I’m in biology class or some shit. Will I be a certified doctor after this lecture, prof?’ he asked, casual and joking, but then proceeded to choke on the breath he just took in.

Because Connor set the biocomponent down on the table, and with that motion, just started to unbutton his shirt too. Like that was normal.

‘Woah, warn a guy before you start undressin’ in the middle of the kitchen’ he forced out the words, before he continued to cough his heart out.

‘Why, do you _not_ want me to show you how to replace a heart?’ he asked, confused. Oh, right. That’s why… okay, right.

Hank didn’t answer then, just followed the movements of Connor’s hands and well. Yeah.

Connor was still fucking attractive.

That was an obvious fact, he was manufactured to be perfect. And it’s not like he didn’t notice before. Of course he did, but well, everybody did, right? There was no way they didn’t.

Or did they? Of course they did. He was all sorts of attractive and he used that fact very well, like he knew that all it took for him to convince anybody on this Earth to help him was to bat his eyelashes and put those puppy eyes to work.

But then there was also another kind of attractiveness. When he was asserting. When his jawline tightened and his eyes narrowed and he looked powerful and maybe scary but also… kinda hot.

Just kinda, nothing more, and even if there was anything more to that thought, Hank was never going to admit to it. So instead of validating them, he just grabbed at all of those thoughts and shoved them right down. Repress, repress. Don’t fucking dare think about those things.

Also, they don’t even exist. He never even thinks. What thoughts? No, sorry ma’am, we don’t do that in this house.

Connor then did show him the motions, he twisted, took a deep breath in and removed the pump regulator, eyes already flinching rapidly at the connection being gone. He waited a few seconds before he put it back, with his face twitching in a way that one could’ve easily perceived to be pain.

‘Does that hurt you?’ Hank asked, maybe a bit worried (a lot, actually, but repressing one feeling tends to repress others too).

‘No, I don’t feel pain. It’s just uncomfortable. It tends to make us panic, because a sort of survival instinct kicks in upon removal. It also affects vision and cognitive abilities’

Then, like nothing happened and Hank didn’t just have a whole big slice of crisis cake, Connor buttoned up his shirt again and started talking about how Thirium, also known as blue blood, worked, but Hank wasn’t actually listening anymore. Well, he pretended to, and he yet again managed to get the gist: basically Connor can lose a lot of blood before he shuts down, but will have to drink some Thirium to ensure there was enough in his system for normal circulation (Hank got really good at listening to shit while not actually listening during his time in college, which he was definitely putting to work right now).

‘I guess I should also talk about my CPU – central processing unit – too, which is my hard drive. My brain, in simple terms. It works the same way any brain works. If they shoot me through it, I die’ Connor said, and then just like a bullet coursing through his mind, the memory of everything Markus told him earlier that day attacked him, this time offering him a visual representation of how all those bodies must’ve looked like, hanging from the assembling cord, hunched over, Thirium leaking from the oval hole on their foreheads.

He cleared his throat to compose himself, which was very clearly just a distraction because. He really did not need to clear his throat. And he never did.

And Hank did notice again, that Something was up. The fact that they even managed to talk this much and still didn’t fucking get to the elephant in the room was already mind-blowing.

Maybe Hank wasn’t the only one who was good at diverting the focus away from himself…

‘I mean even if my CPU is completely destroyed, I can most probably manage to talk for a second or two, but my system will still be too damaged to ever be revived’

‘Fun’ Hank said, trying to come up with a way to make Connor talk about the thing that was bothering him, but still having no clue how to actually make him do that. So he just kept talking. And asking questions, thinking that if he was to get one more minute or two just to come up with a strategy, he’d be able to finally get to where he wanted to be in this conversation. So he continued this game of going into the exact opposite direction they were supposed to be going.

Because that obviously looked like it could work.

‘I also wanted to ask: if like, hypothetically, I don’t know, like… your arm or leg gets torn off, do you bleed out, or you like magically stop bleeding or what?

‘It has nothing to do with magic, but yes, Thirium flow is shut down from the removed part immediately. I could remove my whole leg right now, and I wouldn’t have one problem. But let’s say something cuts my leg in half through my thigh. Then, the leg is still attached to my body, meaning that Thirium flow is permitted to that area, so yes, in that case I can bleed out, although it would still take me several minutes to shut down completely’

‘Fucking hell, so many things can go wrong’ Hank shook his head, sick to his stomach at imagining Connor being hurt in any of the described ways. Ugh.

‘That’s life, I suppose’ Connor shrugged, then started to pack the parts back inside the plastic bag, eyes yet again looking deep in thought, thinking, thinking, thinking.

Goddammit, okay, if he wasn’t going to talk, then Hank needed to make him talk. A simple _‘is something wrong?_ ’ should do it, he decided. It will feel awkward and he will hate every minute of it, but he hated him not talking about it even more, so he had to at least try.

So he took in a deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank: you’re not talking about something serious and i’m noticing it, but you know who’s gonna talk about it? not us lol  
> connor: anyway, here’s a heart, catch it. no homo tho  
> hank: how would this be homo??  
> connor: ur holding my heart bro. that’s gay  
> hank:…………………  
> connor: anyway you wanna hold another heart? I can take my current one out too, if you’d like. you can have it. it’s yours.   
> hank: i thought you said no homo?  
> connor, whispering: i lied


	7. We create our ghosts and then we haunt ourselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at last! I mean I'm currently buried by exams and my anxiety is off the charts, but I'm still alive and there's only two weeks left of this part of exam season so I'm....gonna...pull through....
> 
> [cws: there's quite a lot negative self-talk happening here, self hating and self blame for things that are out of one's control, graphic description of a traumatic event, conversation about prescription drugs, suicidal thoughts, mostly hints of them, but there are outright ones, mention of alcoholism and strong cravings, this one is a heavy one, stay safe lovelies <3]

‘Connor, did I… like, did I do something?’ Hank asked the first question that popped into his head, which caused Connor to start blinking in rapid speed, confused.

‘You do a lot of things throughout the day, do you mean something specific or…?’

‘Don’t be a smartass right now, this is serious’ Hank pressed, indeed very somber. And this time Connor honest to god wasn’t trying to be a dick, he just literally did not understand what he was talking about.

‘You haven’t done anything. I’m fine’ he said, shrugging. Way too quick.

Hank stared at him, suspicion even stronger now.

‘Come on, I’m not dumb. I noticed that something’s wrong’ he said, and at that very moment Connor’s entire body felt like it just deoxygenated and life got sucked out of him upon realizing what this _could_ potentially be about. His eyes wanted to widen in terror, but he quickly rearranged his face to make sure his expression was still resembling his cool and collected base state.

But only _resembling_.

Did Hank know that he…? That he was...?

He was about to deny everything and then run away and live in the woods, but thankfully Hank started speaking before he could’ve even thought about moving an inch.

‘You’re all lost in your thoughts and upset today. Like, you’re acting weird. So if _I_ didn’t do anything, then somebody else must’ve…. I don’t know, did something happen at Markus’?’

Oh. Right. _That_.

That’s what he meant. Right. Logical, yes, of course, obviously.

He exhaled then.

Why did he even assume that Hank would even think that he…?

While he was busy overthinking the situation, Hank studied his face, thinking that the silence was meant to be a personal offense against him and not Connor literally just having a silent crisis.

‘Why don’t you trust me, Connor?’ Hank breathed, clearly hurt, making Connor’s heart drop.

_Shit, shit, shit._

‘I do trust you’ Connor stated, eyes locked on his. Still not really explaining anything. 

There was a beat of silence between them, their faces open, waiting.

Waiting, for the other one to maybe learn how to speak and save them from the silent confusion they were both bathing in for several minutes now. Surprisingly enough, Hank, mumbly, mostly half-nonsensical Hank realized it was his time to shine.

And so he did just that.

‘Then why are you still not talking to me? You know I’ll listen. I always listen’ Hank muttered, soft, kind, caring, all of the things that could make Connor a blubbering idiot in mere seconds.

He took a deep, deep breath then, letting his face fall, showing his actual emotions. Tired and agitated.

Before this conversation started, maybe he wanted to keep this from Hank for his own peace of mind. But maybe he didn’t count with the fact that he would end up figuring it all out on his own, being the damn good detective he was. Shit.

Meanwhile on the other side of the table Hank’s thoughts were loud like shouts would be, but he didn’t actually say anything out loud, just waited patiently (that’s a lie, he was secretly very, very impatient) for Connor to open up.

 _I care about you I care about you I care about you, do I really need to spell it out for you to understand?,_ and the words just kept on circling inside Hank's head, with something big formulating in his chest, something rushing in him, making him want to touch him, to reassure him, to keep him safe.

That feeling scared the shit out of him though, stopping his hand before he could’ve reached out to touch Connor’s. Or pat his shoulder. Or put his hand on his cheek. Or brush that one stray hair out of his face…

 _Okay brain, what the fuck_ , he thought, trying to make those thoughts go away, mentally waving at them.

‘I know’ Connor said then, and at hearing the familiar low nature of his voice, Hank snapped out of whatever was going on in his head in an instant ‘I just… are you sure you want to get mixed up in my shit again?’

His eyes looked tired, but still so, so brown, so, so clear, so perfect. Of course, just objectively speaking. Of course he was perfect, he was an android. He was made to be prefect.

And he _was_.

And the more Hank looked into those eyes, the more he let them push their way inside, the more it became obvious to him that there was just not one thing in the world that he wouldn’t do to keep the owner of those eyes close to him.

Whatever that fucking meant.

‘If it’s your shit, it’s my shit too’

* * *

 

‘…shit’ is all he said, after Connor was done with his very long, very in-depth monologue about absolutely everything, starting from the destroyed RK800s to that being a straight-up death threat aimed at him, to explaining what the Zen Garden was, to Amanda, the person (?) who could’ve been behind all of this.

He had been walking around, violently gesticulating and explaining for the past 10 minutes, connecting dots and theorizing out loud, pouring all of that information right into Hank's brain, almost, in a way, sharing his consciousness with him.

‘Exactly my thinking’ Connor replied with a tired smile, now sitting back down to the table ‘but you should know that just because I’m unnerved by the events, that doesn’t mean my conclusions give an accurate reading of the situation. Logically speaking, there’s no possible way anyone can get to me, I destroyed the connection that tied them to me so they can’t possibly resume control ever again. But still, I am me and I tend to overthink everything. That doesn’t mean you should be concerned about me, though’

‘I _am_ concerned, Connor, this… I mean… you just got back’ there was panic rising in him, something old, something new, something jumbled up, but it was definitely some sort of panic. He crossed his arms, trying to compose himself ‘and how are you this calm about this? This is some scary shit’

Connor just shrugged.

‘I had enough time to have a full-blown crisis in the afternoon and trust me I wasn’t at all alright. But I can’t just lie down and give up, not when I’m finally back’ he played around with his hands, still jittery, but at least looking a bit calmer now, not so tense. Hank wasn't looking at him though, wasn't able to, not after being provided with the mental image of 20 dead Connor's being thrown into a pile, dead, cold, lifeless.

All killed in mere seconds.

'Hm' he hummed, completely lost in the darkest side of his brain and not yet being able to pull himself out.

Connor wasn't done speaking though, so, in a way of trying to get his attention he extended his arm towards him and gently placed his hand on his crossed arms.

‘If things _do_ go wrong…’ he started, but then Hank cut him off immediately.

‘Okay, stop right there, don’t even talk about that shit’

But Connor, instead of letting the topic go, just tightened his grip on his arm, and tried to find a way to catch his eyes, which were diverting further and further away from him.

‘I just want you to know that I am really happy I met you, Hank. You changed my life’ he said, at first his voice almost bordering on being neutral, but then, probably uncontrollably, it broke slightly, when he got to saying his name.

And that’s when Hank absolutely lost it.

He uncrossed his arms just enough to be able to reach Connor’s hand, the one that was still gripping him. He squeezed, then brushed a finger against his skin, not really being able to stop himself from going along with that movement.

He didn’t say anything, though.

Nothing about how well his hand fit into his. Nothing about how warm his hand was, a lot warmer than he expected. Maybe because he knew he was an Android, he just kind of assumed his hand would be cold.

What a dumb assumption.

Also, come to think of it, he never really touched his skin directly before, the touches between them always happened through thick layers of clothes.

Not that this revelation mattered at all. It was just… a thing.

It’s not that otherwise, when it was just through layers of clothes he didn’t like the touch. It was the exact opposite. He liked to touch Connor. So much, that the first time he really touched him, when he pulled him into that hug in front of the Chicken Feed, he then spent the three weeks of him being away thinking about it. Constantly.

Just thinking of how well he fit into his arms. How painfully, excruciatingly well. How _‘I never want to let you go ever again’_ kind of well.

He felt how much Connor cared for him then. His actions gave a pretty clear idea of exactly how much he cared, but still, he never felt that emotion from him in such a concentrated form before. It was almost… _warm_. But then he convinced himself that he must’ve imagined that. That he was just standing in the cold for so long that his body got confused or something.

But then he kept missing him after he left. And he kept looking for that warm feeling everywhere.

Maybe that’s why he kept calling him. Because he wanted to feel that warm feeling again.

But it never came. So that’s how he eventually concluded that he probably just imagined it.

All until this second, when Connor was sitting there, so vulnerable, so honest, so trusting, so real, with puppy-eyes that could’ve taken any man down.

With his hand soft under his hand, and Hank then, all of a sudden, not even expecting it, felt that warm feeling again.

Almost like it was a virus he contracted somewhere and it remained dormant until this very second.

It traveled up his hand, into his arm, then spread across his chest, boiling. But somehow, it was nice. More than nice.

And really fucking overwhelming, so much in fact that he became completely paralyzed by it for a second.

He stared at Connor, who was staring back at him, but then almost like like struck by lightning, they both darted their eyes away, feeling like they just let the other see something they shouldn’t have shown.

Hank pulled away then, trying to be casual about it, but didn’t quite manage. And because he couldn’t deal with awkwardness for the life of him, he made up some bullshit excuse to leave for his room and basically ran away.

He sat down on his bed, trying to do something with himself, but that felt impossible, because his mind went completely blank, except for one sentence that kept on repeating and repeating inside his head.

_What the fuck is this what the fuck is this what the fuck is this what the fuck is this what the fuck is this what the fuck is this what the fuck is this what the fuck is this what the fuck is this what the fuck is this-_

* * *

 

He did leave his room after a while, mainly because he was getting dehydrated and also hiding like a 5-year-old child (tops) was getting pretty embarrassing at that point.

While he drank some water, he saw that Connor had moved to the living room and was reading in the armchair, Sumo at his feet, calm, kind of weirdly looking like a grandpa.

But like a hot one. But also let’s maybe scratch that thought.

But also he could get used to that picture. Never being alone. Always having somebody around.

He told him he looked cozy, because he had no self-control, but then immediately regretted ever speaking because Connor reacted with a smile so soft, Hank was about to pass the fuck out, but also _what the fuck was going on?_

Thankfully, Connor had things to say, so he could just ignore all of those trembly-legged, heart-jumpy feelings yet again.

He told him he just got a phone call from Josh, inviting him to a sort of ‘welcome back and thanks for getting us our civil rights, how nice of you’ party in Carl Manfred’s house which was going to be held on Friday. So in two days and 7 hours. To be precise, because he was Connor, of course he was going to be precise. Hank, furrowing his brows asked him if that wasn’t maybe a bit too risky of a thing to do, considering the fact that somebody was on the run, more than ready to kill him or hijack him aka kill him out of his body or whatever.

Connor nodded and said that that was the first objection he had too, but Josh ensured him that there would be security and a private VIP list, so nobody sketchy could get in. And the others told him that they would look out for him too, making sure that nobody was even looking at him weird.

So he agreed to go, he announced, and Hank thought that was all he wanted to say, but after a brief silence and him already trying to shuffle back to his room, he heard Connor’s voice again, this time a lot smaller. _Would you like to join me?_ he asked and Hank stopped dead in his tracks, not at all expecting that question.

At first he was just awkwardly standing from one foot to the other, muttering about how he would probably not fit in at all and that he isn’t the most social person out there and so he doesn’t want to be in the way, but then his blabbering was cut short, because Connor interrupted him mid-sentence.

‘I _want_ you to be there’ he said, but then must’ve realized that that sentence alone wasn’t going to be enough, so then he went on about how much his friends also wanted to meet him for quite a while now and how they’d probably be disappointed if they still wouldn’t be able to meet him, even after all this time. And he said all that with the most genuine eyes Hank had ever seen. 

The most geuine eyes that he was desperately not trying to stare into, but failed miserably anyway.

And so in some unexpected turn of events, Hank found himself being persuaded into saying yes to the invitation.

And when he made himself say the words to confirm, that yeah, he would like to go with him, Connor smiled so bright at him, it was hard to remember that there was a time, not even long ago, when he never smiled. Maybe sometimes, just a slight resemblance of a smile, but still too serious to ever really consider it one. And then there were the fake ones, the clearly programmed ones. Brr, those were horrible.

But these? God, he didn’t even want to think about what adjective he would use to describe them.

Probably charming, but only if he let himself give a name to it.

Meeting something, that was previously so machine-like, so programmed, so not self-aware and then finding life in it, deep within and seeing it grow and grow and take over, making him lower guns and empathize and get angry and frustrated was… quite something to experience, as a human.

And he loved seeing him alive, it was just something he couldn’t take his eyes off.

Or maybe _he_ was some _one_ he couldn’t take his eyes off.

Anyway, let’s just lock those thoughts up into a tiny tiny box and toss it to a deep black void, and then run, never look back, lose it and never look at it again.

Also, it was time for sleep. Therapist woman insisted on him going to sleep at 11, latest (of course he broke that rule quite a bit, especially while Connor was away and he kept wanting to call him, but then convinced himself not to, but then always broke at around 11 and so: called).

And because it was 11:03, he knew if he wanted to be a good little mentally unstable person trying to get better, he needed to get his ass to sleep, so he said good night, then went.

But then the more he was trying to just make himself fall deep into a temporary unconsciousness, the more awake he was starting to feel.

And his brain also thought it was the perfect time for him to just start thinking about shit and also _maybe let’s not ever stop thinking because it’s just such a fun activity in the middle of the night, right?_

_Fucking hell._

But there was also just a lot to think about. A lot.

And he tried to ignore the thoughts, but they kept on formulating inside his brain anyway.

 _A bullet would help that problem_ , the voice in his head offered kindly.

 _You got me there_ , he answered, tired but somehow still wide-awake.

Maybe one of those sleeping pills would help, the ones the therapist prescribed him. Or more like the one that the therapist suggested and then the psychiatrist of the facility gave him the prescription for.

And he took the piece of paper on Sunday, and just like that, immediately forgot about actually going to a drug store and getting it. Shit. What was the thing called again? It sounded like Chamaleon, but with an R.

Rhamaleon?

No.

Shit, that was going to drive him insane...

…

 _Ramelteon?_ his brain offered, and he almost shouted in recognition because that was _indeed_ the correct name.

Anyway, point was, he could use one of those.

Or maybe if Connor would be there… but wait, he was there, he was in the next room.

Old habits.

 _Maybe he’s still too far away_ , he thought, but then brushed that thought right away, like it never even existed.

He fucking needed a drink. Like a strong one. Or two. Or three. Or more.

Shit.

Being responsible sucked.

He had work tomorrow and he had to be there for Connor. Evaluation. Yes, that.

He needed to be focused and _there_ and responsive and not sleep-deprived and as a result very fucking depressed and a piece of shit and…

What the fuck was going on in his head anyway?

He was fine, well, _okay_ , but he was functioning and having Connor back also helped, cause…

Oh. Connor.

Right. _That’s_ what caused this whole wide-awake self-hating session.

Shit, he was sometimes so predictable it even hurt him a bit.

Because this whole situation with Connor being threatened and Connor, despite acting like it was no big deal, he was still undeniably scared and said shit like _‘If things do go wrong’_ as if Hank could fathom that possibility, as if that wouldn’t break him down to the ground again.

Point was that this all scared the shit out of him. Because the last time he cared about someone he ended up losing them and now he cared about someone again and there was a possibility he would lose him too and that paralleling up with the memory and trauma of losing Cole evoked such a primal fear deep in his abdomen, he thought he was going to vomit all of his guts up.

And the feeling just kept growing and growing and he was really starting to doubt he could get through the night without either getting some booze or going straight for the gun in the drawer.

 _You tossed all of the bullets into the trash you dumbass_ , he remembered, and yeah, shit, he fucking did.

Responsible, daytime Hank was a fucking dumbass and a coward, those bullets cost money, you asshole. Anyway…

He just. He just lost too much already. And he was working on accepting that those things happened whether he liked it or not, but hell, he wasn’t ready to lose Connor too. Not now, not tomorrow, not the next year, basically never.

Connor was supposed to stay. Well, at least he said he wanted to, and told him not to question that decision of his and so after a while he didn’t and just accepted that Connor probably felt as attached to him as he did.

Whatever the label was for that attachment. He just needed him around, like he was some kind of ingredient that he forgot to add to his life before, but when he finally found it, it kicked (or more like slapped) him back on track and made everything better. And worth it.

At least mostly. Of course he had to do most of the hard work of getting better, but with the knowledge that Connor was going to be beside him while he did that… yeah, it all felt worth it. And easier, somehow.

But the possibility about caring about somebody again, who he knew cared for him in turn too, and then losing them because of this fucked up world and it’s fucked up ways? No, fuck that.

 _Drink drink drink_ , chanted the voice inside his head, but he didn’t move. If he couldn’t drown the thoughts out, at least he could use his laziness against it.

Also, Connor was still in the living room, he would notice him slipping out to buy some drinks. And also, that wouldn’t be a good thing to do. It just wouldn’t be.

Fuck, being sober was hard fucking work.

_You know these things never last for you._

_He’s going to leave one way or another._

_Told you not to get too fucking attached._

He groaned, while hitting his head into the pillow. Fucking hell, would you just shut the fuck up, like ever?

And also. Bad decision or not, he did get attached. He got attached the minute… well, a long time ago. It wasn’t something he could just stop from happening. He just cared for him and like an avalanche, the attachment kept growing and he just kept on falling and falling and falling and there they were.

Wait, falling into what exactly?

…maybe that wasn’t the right metaphor. Maybe. Possibly. Yeah, definitely not the right one.

Anyway, point was: he cared about him. He hadn’t cared for anybody this much for a long time. And apparently he was still not over his issues with letting people go. And making them stay. And trusting them that they would in fact, stay.

HE NEEDED TO DRINK. A lot.

_Not that it matters that you care for him, in the end it never matters when they are bleeding out in your hands and you can’t do anything, you can never save anybody, the people who care for you all die, he’s going to die too while you know damn well you’re the one who’s supposed to die, not them, you are the one who should’ve fucking died in that car crash, not him, you think you deserve to live and not think about him when he’s gone and there was blood everywhere and he wasn’t talking, Cole, baby wake up, hey, please wake up, don’t do this to me, please please please-_

‘Is everything okay?’ Connor’s voice cut through the sentences circling around in his head, when he realized that he managed to get himself out of bed and already made his way to the kitchen and was frantically looking for his keys, determined to go somewhere.

‘No, nothing’s okay’ he replied, choked up. He cleared his throat, quickly.

Connor put his book down and was approaching him, slowly. Scanning.

Fuck, he should’ve said everything was fine and just went, this way he’ll need to tell him what he was about to do. But even if he wasn't going to tell him about his plan, he would most probably figure it out on his own either way, so there was no point in denying anything. Or… he could’ve also just left without telling him anyway. He's an adult, he could do whatever he fucking wanted, whenever he fucking pleased. 

‘I need to…’ _drink_ , he wanted to say, but then he got a slight bit of his brain back under control and immediately thick shame was starting to run over him for the decision he was about to make.

He was clean, he had been for weeks. Was he really going to fuck that up right after Connor got back? And also do that shit right in front of him?

‘Is there a drug store open at this time? Anywhere?’ he sighed, agitated, but making the choice to be better, even if at that moment it felt like the dumbest choice in the entire world, while it was also hurting one hell of a lot, to top that off.

‘There is one downtown, open until 1 am, for emergencies’ Connor replied, alert. It was clear that he had no idea what was going on, but was definitely ready to do anything, especially when Hank barged out of his room, with eyes desperate like that ‘we can get there in 10 minutes, the roads are clear’

Yeah, having an Android around who could just check the internet and also police records all while being a walking-talking GPS… that was handy.

Also… ‘ _we can get there’_? We?

‘Wait, you wanna come?’ he asked, confused. Connor nodded, like that was not a question worth asking, but for Hank, yes it was ‘tomorrow’s the evaluation and I’m not gonna make you sleep-deprived too, we already have one fucked up person here, we don’t need two’

‘Hank, I don’t _need_ sleep. I’ll be fine. Tell me what’s going on and let me help you’ Connor said, eyes so kind and worried and ready and… why was Hank making him see him all fucked up again?

He was feeling very guilty about everything at that point, a guilt that hadn’t felt that bad for quite a while. He knew crying helped before, but he didn’t feel like crying then for multiple reasons, one being that he didn’t want to embarrass himself even more and be seen as pathetic, no, not by Connor, and another reason being that in that situation sadness wasn’t the overpowering emotion in him.

It was _panic_. Sheer panic, that he was going to experience the exact same kind of trauma again and it will be his fault and he will be forced to watch somebody who he cares about die and he’ll just stand there, unable to do anything.

And because panic is a very powerful emotion he didn’t have any strength to keep pushing his words down and so he just started word-vomiting.

‘I forgot to get this one fucking pill my therapist prescribed me for sleep and because of that dumbass decision my brain is fuckin’ up and I started thinking about dangerous shit and now I’ve made myself a miserable pathetic shit again and convinced myself that I should just go get a drink and a gun and make my brain quiet, but now that I think about it maybe actually getting the pill would be the least messy choice here’

Connor was just standing there, half not knowing what to do, half knowing exactly what to do, but that half was his psychology program and he wasn’t sure that was the thing that he needed to use here. Maybe Hank didn’t need his input, he just needed him to be by his side.

‘Do you want me to drive?’ he asked, extending his hand towards Hank, clearly expecting him to put the keys in them, but Hank just looked away from him, letting his hand fall to the side with the keys in it and for a moment, Connor was very, very confused.

‘Fuck, you’re not like... you’re not my caretaker or whatever, you shouldn’t feel pressured to do these things for me, I’m…’ he was muttering, ashamed and guilty and hating every part of himself, but Connor wasn’t having any of that.

‘I’m not doing this because you’re pressuring me, I’m doing this because I’m your _friend_. I care about you, why is that such a hard concept for you to understand?’ he was firm, but he was also kind. Caring. Fuck.

 _Because it’s hard for me to believe anybody could care for me, but when they do I’m scared shitless they’ll leave and stop caring_ , Hank thought, but didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he just kept his mouth shut and handed Connor the keys.

 

* * *

 

They were sitting in the car, in dead silence, because Connor insisted on not listening to heavy metal, at least not that night. Hank did remind him that he also had some alternative rock songs about wanting to die, but Connor just shot him a look that probably meant murder so he decided to yet again just shut up and be miserable in peace.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Connor asked then, eyes only leaving the road for one moment.

‘No’ Hank replied, fast.

And Connor seemed to accept that.

He was a good driver, he had to give that to him. Hank was watching him from the side, his face, his movements, how confident he was, how calculated, direct.

He was always like that, though. In everything he did.

Well, maybe not. He was more like an entire spectrum of things. Sometimes he was confused and full of doubts, but then the next moment, like nothing happened he was confident again. Just like how cold and emotionless he could be about something very serious. But then could turn into an emotional mess about some other thing.

It was like he was both sides of a coin. And he kept tipping from one edge to the other.

And Hank had grown fond of that, the sudden changes, the unexpected turns.

He remembered that first real smile he saw on him. Seconds before they shared that hug. He wasn’t expecting the smile, and he wasn’t expecting his own arms to go around him that tight, wasn’t expecting the warmth to just coat them up like that.

Wasn’t expecting the warmth to travel to his chest like it did just hours ago. Wasn’t expecting himself to care this much.

It did only take a couple of minutes to get to the drug store and as Connor parked elegantly in front of it, then pulled the brakes, he looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to get out of the car.

But Hank couldn't just yet, so he kept staring and staring at him, at how the shops' lights illuminated parts of his face, at how alive he looked then and how competent and strong and put together.

And still, how fragile.

‘Am I going to lose you?’ he heard himself ask, the guilt instantly flushing into his chest again.

Connor didn’t say anything at first, just blinked, then blinked again, his eyes still steadily focused on Hank. Something other in his gaze cutting into him, like a knife trying to break him open and look for the possible right answer that would make Hank feel at ease again.

But he wasn’t going to help him out with this one, though. He needed the truth, not some pity lies only said to maybe make him stop being depressed for the night.

One could say they both were trying desperately to make this conversation hard for the other. Hence the silence they found themselves in, both (yes, both) waiting for Connor to say something. Anything.

‘If it depends on me, then no. You won’t’ he said eventually and relief washed across Hank, making the previous guilt disappear. For exactly 5 seconds, before Connor opened his mouth again and decided to burst his bubble ‘but I can’t guarantee that other people won’t try to interfere with that decision of mine’

Hank scoffed at that, dry and heavy. Realistic. Same old Connor.

Well, that was still the closest thing to the truth, probably. And that’s what he wanted to hear, right?

Except no, that was not at all what he wanted to hear, not even close to it.

But at least he didn’t lie. He never lied to him.

He’s seen him lie to Androids before. And he was viciously good at lying, he had to give him that. He even fooled him once or twice, even at times when he really should’ve known Connor was lying his ass off. Like when he told Carlos Ortiz’s Android that he only needed to talk and Connor would be able to protect him then. Even Hank started thinking _‘can he do that?’_ before he realized that no. He can't. He knew that the Android would get destroyed. Of course he would, he killed a man. But still, Connor somehow made him believe that that wasn’t necessarily what was going to happen.

That being said, he would’ve still pointed out him lying the minute it would’ve happened.

But he never did lie to him, so he never had to.

And he knew how to spot when he was telling the truth too.

He was sure, that he could've picked out the exact frequency his voice dropped down to, when he was being truthful. Most times he also hesitated for a few seconds before he elaborated about what actually happened, about what he was feeling. Hank had picked up on these telling signs a long while ago and he was sure he had learned to read Connor just enough. Well, as much as a mere mortal could read a mighty Android.

He nodded at the answer, then got out of the car, going into the store still in his pajamas. Not giving one shit about what the receptionist would think of him, because goddamn, he was depressed and who cared anyway?

He got his pills in exactly 5 minutes (Connor was keeping track outside) and then he was back in the car already.

‘Ramelteon should be taken 30 minutes before bedtime, so I suggest you take it now, in order to have an easier time falling asleep when we’re back’ Connor said, revving the engine.

‘Right’ Hank didn’t even question him at this point, he just got the recommended dosage out and took it, hoping it would actually help him.

But he was already doing a bit better, somehow the car drive helped. Or maybe that one-minute talk helped. Whichever.

‘I think Cole would’ve liked you’ he said then, out of the blue. A bit drowsy already.

Connor didn’t answer. Probably didn’t know what to say, which is understandable.

‘He always loved Androids. Like, he thought they were just unnaturally nice people, didn’t get that they weren’t… living. You know, back then. And when one kid's family from the daycare center got an android all hell broke loose and he just couldn’t shut up about wanting to get one too. When I asked him why he wanted this so bad, he told me he thought I needed a _‘friend to love’_. A weird way of telling me he wanted a step-parent’

And there was the guilt again. But he was smiling. He loved these memories. The ones that didn’t involve blood and screaming and panic. The ones that just tasted of laughter and fond annoyance. The ones where he was living and didn’t have one worry in the world.

‘He just wanted you to be happy’

‘I was happy jut having him. And getting an Android just to fill a hole would’ve been fucked up’ he expressed, crossing his arms and sliding down in the seat.

Connor stared at him just a second longer.

‘Do you still think that?’ he asked, voice almost just a whisper, looking away already, hiding his face the minute the words left his mouth.

‘What?’ Hank asked, tilting his head to get a better view of him.

‘That loving an android would be…?’ he didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to, because Hank knew exactly what he meant.

He could feel his heart beating out of his chest and he knew Connor noticed that too. There was no way he didn’t.

He looked at him, the freckles, the eyes, that one strand of hair, the uncertainness taking over and making the confidence disappear, and at that moment he was certain that whoever would’ve crossed Connor’s path, Android or human, didn’t matter, because if anybody else would’ve just seen everything that made him _him,_ there was no way they wouldn’t have fallen in love with Connor.

But naturally, unboxing that thought made his brain malfunction and so he answered a 100% on autopilot.

‘No’ he said, but then felt the need to elaborate ‘no, it wouldn’t be fucked up anymore’

 

* * *

 

That night, he dreamt. He dreamt of a sunny day, with light breeze, and smiling faces, parents with kids. He dreamt of the playground next to the river, and that colourful spinning wheel, that Cole always loved. And he was in it, screaming with joy every time Hank spun it.

And he just spun and spun and the kid was happy, so he was happy too.

Connor was there too, he was standing at the side, smiling at them. He waved and Cole waved back at him. It crossed Hank's mind for a moment, how they weren't supposed know each other, somehow they weren't, but then he suddenly didn’t think of that anymore. Of course they knew each other, Connor was with them. Yes, that made sense. Connor was there. Of course he was there, he was there with him when he was sitting on the bench. When he was drinking, he was there with him. Yeah, it was starting to make sense.

Cole had enough of the wheel then and so he put his leg out, stopping it all of a sudden. The world stopped around them too, parents and their children freezing in time with the small stomp of his foot, but Cole didn’t look bothered by any of that, he just stood up and put his little hand inside Hank’s, then started pulling, guiding him.

‘You have somewhere else to be now, dad’ he said and just pulled, pulled.

Hank laughed at him. How bossy he was being, the kid. How would he even know where his dad needed to be? This was his day off; what else was he going to do if not play with his kid? There couldn't have been anything more important.

But he played along anyway and didn’t stop Cole, who just kept on pulling him, until they reached Connor standing at the side.

Needless to say, Hank was getting very confused, so he looked at Cole, trying to understand what his plan was, but he just looked up at him with the smiley-est of smiles, and squeezed his hand.

Then just like that, his tiny hand slipped out of his grasp: Cole let go of him. And he let him. He didn't know why he was doing, what he was doing, but he stood to the side too, right next to Connor.

Just quietly watching, while Cole started walking to the car park alone. Not looking back anymore.

‘Why is he going alone?’ he asked Connor, now scared, a deeply familiar void forming in his stomach.

But Connor put his hand on his shoulder, steady and strong and suddenly his fear evaporated in an instant. If _he_ wasn’t scared, he shouldn’t be either, he knew that.

‘We can’t go with him’ he explained.

Cole was getting smaller and smaller in the distance, while people started unfreezing around them, talking and laughing at each other, clear indication of life starting to go on again, the further he went. 

But they could laugh and be all happy all they wanted, this all still felt deeply wrong for Hank.

‘I don’t wanna let him go’ he told Connor, choking up, the upcoming tears burning his throat.

Connor nodded at him, then his hand shifted from his shoulder and slid down to his hand. Their fingers interlocked as they watched Cole slowly disappear in the distance.

‘Sometimes they go anyway’

 

* * *

 

The next morning Hank woke up to a knot in his stomach and he cried for a good ten minutes before he could calm himself to a point where he could function again.

But that was necessary. That needed to happen.

In a way, this was him processing what had happened.

This was his way of coming to terms with it.

Maybe not entirely just yet, but this, despite the heartbreaking nature of it, was still a step forward.

And he was going to be okay, he knew that somehow.

He just wasn't sure he wouldn't end up being alone again at the end of whatever was coming at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off:  
> you bet your ass I watched compilation videos of connor lying vs. telling the truth at around 2 am and was very happy with myself when I picked up on the fact that when he tells the truth, he always hesitates before elaborating, and now I feel like I’m a mastermind psychologist or some shit dkfhsf
> 
> I mean he always hesitates after his lies too, but it’s always paired up with some kind of sudden facial expression change, like he blinks a lot, his eyebrows shoot up into the sky as if saying ‘oh my god that’s !!!!! so ridiculous !!!!!! you getting destroyed after you literally killed a man?????? of course not!!!! wow silly you haha of course not…..haha haha….’  
> also I find it interesting that a lot of the times when he lies he also tends to overdo the ‘humaning’ like you can tell that he is lying his ass off because he is using a lot of facial expressions and movements, which makes him look a bit more human in a way, but it’s also very fake? like you can tell he is consciously making himself look more human and understanding so people will trust him, which is…..criminal mastermind helloooo  
> but also when he tells the truth he becomes like weirdly small and a bit frozen movements-wise, like he doesn’t do unnecessary motions, because he doesn’t need to, there’s no point to cover his face up when it’s already showing the truth, in this essay I will…..
> 
> secondly:  
> yall know how healing isn’t linear right? hank is mostly okay, but that doesn’t mean things won’t trigger him anymore and he will just be a-okay, dude’s been through some shit. he’ll be okay but he’ll still have some of those days when he’ll run out into the kitchen looking for his keys with shaky hands to impulse buy his medication at midnight. that’s just how it is on this bitch of an earth buddies and cops


	8. Things might look up again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyhihello sorry for taking so long, I'm currently in the middle of exam season and I'm losing my mind but I'm here to DELIVER MY DUDES

Connor was a fucking angel in The Terminator’s body; Hank was sure of that the minute he stepped out into the hall, on his way to the bathroom to quickly get to the sink and wash his face to make himself look presentable enough.

But right as he opened the door and was about to sneak out, the smell coming from the kitchen hit his nose and as his still half-asleep brain made the connection, he instantly almost melted away right then and there, understanding now what Connor was doing and why exactly.

Because he made him pancakes. No, not pancakes. Pancakes, with a capital p. Or you know what? He made him PANCAKES.

Nobody asked him to do so, but he still did it for Hank in the hopes that maybe with starting his day off with a nice gesture from his roommate, he would feel much better than he did yesterday.

And it worked, there was no denying in that, but it wasn’t just the pancakes that put Hank in the good mood he was already starting to let himself sink into.

Because right as he stepped into the kitchen, it was like a completely different place, the atmosphere was just… so new and so home-like and nice and it definitely didn’t resemble the way it looked when he was lying alone on the floor, drunk and ready to die, the place far too cold and big not to feel alone in.

But that morning the mixture of the smell and the almost-chaos that was left by Connor, with the music that he was listening to swirling around them, some shitty pop from fuck knows when filling the room and all that together… it created something Hank never knew he would feel again, at least not in such an elevated form.

Ease. Or maybe something else?

A calm form of happiness.

…contentment? That one.

While Connor was still making some back-up pancakes to store away, he was slightly synching his movements to the rhythm of the music (but just slightly, he was still Connor after all), and with not even being dressed yet, just having some sweatpants and a t-shirt on, Hank was… kind of taken aback at the sight of him, because, well. He was being so casual. So human. Every millisecond, there were so many small changes on his face, in the way he moved, he couldn’t have kept up with the ever-changing nature of him. But somehow, that carried an energy that calmed him, all down to his core. The fact that he will never be able to solve him. He was so complex and so alive, he was unsolvable. And Hank, for some reason felt really strong (and good, definitely good) emotions about this simple realization.

And damn, he was having the best morning he had ever had, in possibly his entire life. All of this was just the sweetest fucking thing in the entire world and it made him forget about whatever weird dream he had the night before.

Not that that morning they did anything in particular, it was just clear from the atmosphere that despite the way everything was falling apart around them, or at least threatening to fall apart in the future, still, then and there everything seemed to fall into place. They were just having a casual, everyday life kind of morning, like nothing bad had ever happened to them, and nothing equally bad could ever happen to them again in their life.

_Damn, where did that optimism even come from?,_ he asked himself after a couple of minutes of stuffing his face with food.

Maybe it was the high amounts of sugar he was putting in his body (Connor obviously didn’t fail to mention how much calories he was consuming of course, and gave him a list of things he should consider as lunch options, and because he was probably going insane, he took it).

But, good morning or not, it had to end pretty soon if they wanted to get going at a reasonable time. Because Hank still had a job to do and Connor also had an evaluation to get to, so not long after Hank finished his breakfast and they both managed to get some kind of clothes on, they pat Sumo on the head, then wrapped themselves in coats and scarves (Connor objected multiple times, trying to make Hank understand that there was no way he could ever feel cold, so he didn’t need the extra layer, but Hank still didn’t want to let him leave the house without at least putting on a scarf, saying ‘I’m going to feel cold for you if you don’t, please have some solidarity for us humans’ and because Connor saw that there was no point objecting, he let him wrap the thick scarf around him even if doing that made no sense whatsoever).

Then just like that they got in the car and were off to work. Which was possibly the best part of it all.

Partners. The crime fighting duo back in town. _Finally._

Well, okay, maybe not exactly, because Connor was only going in for the evaluation and with Hank neglecting to write some cases up yesterday, he also had to do _actual_ work that day. So, there was no crime fighting happening that day, for sure.

But meh. Still.

All those good feelings aside though, the closer they were actually getting to the station, the more reality was starting to grip onto both of their consciousness and with that, the more anxious they were both starting to grow, remembering what actually getting to work meant for them.

Especially for Connor. He was getting all quiet after a while fixing his tie every 10 seconds, and fiddling with his hands as a nervous motion. Hank of course noticed him do that, and there was a moment where he really wanted to reach for him, take his hand to make the fidgeting stop, but actually going along with that plan seemed too risky so instead he just dragged his eyes away and tried to forget about the fact that he even thought about doing anything like that.

They got to the station right on time, but didn’t go in immediately, just waited around in the car for a couple more minutes, both hesitating to step out into the real world, leave and let themselves be exposed to people and situations. Connor was definitely consciously still trying to buy some time for himself before he had to face the place he had yearned to be back at for such a long time, mostly because now, that he was actually there he didn’t know what to expect from it. Things changed, since he last stepped inside the office. The world changed. He changed. He didn’t know if he still had a place in there.

And all while he was silently having a crisis, Hank was there next to him, worried eyes trying to come up with words that could maybe help, words that could convey… everything.

He didn’t yet manage to come up with anything to say though, but somehow, when he turned to him and decided it was time for Words, they did indeed end up coming out of his mouth, as if his brain already knew what it wanted to say, but to actually be _able_ to say what the deepest part of his subconscious wanted to articulate, his own brain needed to hide the sentence away from the logical side of him, fearing that if he thought too much about it, he would veto it (he probably would’ve, let’s be honest).

So he even surprised his own self with the words that left his mouth, which stated, clear and loud, _‘Listen, just… be you. That’s already pretty fucking impressive’_

And Connor smiled so nice then, making it clear for Hank that he really did need to hear him say that, while also visibly letting go of some of the tension he’d been carrying around in his body. Hank then undoubtedly felt the need to squeeze his hand again, but of course didn’t, instead he just made himself get out of the car, while Connor followed.

And as they stepped in, looking around in the Office, nothing really changed since Connor left, he thought. Reed was still a bitch and a half, Fowler was still sitting inside his little see-through podium, the others still looked like washed up shit, just like they did every other morning. In a changing world, this place was still unchanging, frozen in time.

Well, there _was_ one thing that changed: the androids they used at the office before the revolution broke out were all gone now, leaving their parking space at the side empty. Weirdly enough, or maybe understandably, none of them returned to ask for a job. Yet. Hank was sure there would be more androids who would want to do the same thing they used to do, just like Connor. Or at least he hoped that would be the case, especially because crimes committed against androids were rising and they needed more than one android around the station to help them out in cases like those.

He of course understood that the atmosphere wasn’t the most android-friendly in the city, but… still. He hoped it would change in due time, though.

‘Oh, _fuck no’_ they heard a far too familiar voice spark up. Talk of the devil, that was Reed, still being his bitch and a half self.

‘Yeah, good morning to you too’ Hank said towards his general direction, not even giving him a glance. But Reed didn’t give up that easy though, not that morning, not after seeing what he was seeing with his own two eyes. He walked up to them to stand right in their way, stopping them in their tracks.

Reed glanced at Connor first, then with a very dangerous look, he shifted his eyes back at Hank, almost offended.

‘The fuck’s the plastic doin’ here?’ he asked, voice louder than it was necessary, and Hank was about to answer even louder, before Connor stepped forward and shot a threatening half-a-smile at Reed.

‘Long time no see, Gavin’ he spoke with his usual cool tone, but he tilted his head, a small movement just to make sure everybody involved in the situation knew that he was still very much ready for murder.

He paused for just a second, before he continued, with a so very punchable smirk on his face.

‘How’s the jaw?’  he asked and right that moment Hank’s entire stomach and also his jaw dropped to the floor, because god fucking _damn_. He… he did that. The piece of shit part of his personality jumped the fuck out, and he let it happen, _holy shit_.

Reed wasn’t this amused by that comment.

‘Motherf-‘ he spat, while getting all up into Connor’s personal space, who didn’t even sway.

‘Detective Reed, get your ass back to your desk or I’ll send you the fuck home’ Fowler’s voice ripped through the office like thunder and it made Reed step back the minute the Captain’s anger reached his ears ‘and Connor, in my Office, now’

‘Watch your fuckin’ back’ Reed sneered at him, as he walked away.

And Connor did not give one shit; his head being occupied with much more important things he still had to tend to. Like the literal evaluation that was going to decide his future. In minutes.

‘Um, good luck’ he heard Hank say, who was still quite shocked at what he just witnessed happen. Not that he didn’t know that Reed and him were hostile, he had a pretty clear idea about that, but… he still never quite saw this happen. Not the way it did, at least.

Connor offered him a smile as a sort of thank you, then just like that, he turned around and started walking towards the Captain’s Office, scared shitless, but none of that actually showing on his face.

* * *

 

‘Connor’ Fowler said, awfully stretching out the word while observing him.

‘Captain Fowler’ he said, offering a polite smile to him.

Then there was a silence. A clearly very awkward one.

‘You see that this is a very fuckin’ strange situation, right?’ Fowler asked after a moment, leaning closer.

‘Certainly’ Connor answered, not quite understanding where the Captain was trying to stir the conversation with that statement, but going along with it anyway.

Fowler was still observing him, trying to crack him, pin-point one or two things, but he wasn’t really able to do that just yet, not so early on, and after realizing that, he gave up for now and instead picked up his file to peek inside it.

‘So, let’s just jump right into it, I guess’ he said, but then suddenly closed the file again, his eyes shooting back up once more.He was clearly considering something while Connor was still about to die of anxiety, still having no idea where this was all going.

‘Or can I maybe ask you a question first?’

_Oh, no, if he asks about the evidence locker, I’m officially dead, I’ll live, but I will die in the context of this exchange, which is worse_ , Connor thought, his heartbeat elevating with every passing second.

He nodded anyway, giving permission. And as he was about to verbalize the things that were going on inside his head, Fowler was playing around with his pen, also nervous now.

 ‘Just… why did you come back? I mean, not that I don’t appreciate you wanting to come back, but still. No other android we had around here ever considered coming back. And you were quite a big shot out there as a politician, I thought… we all kind of thought you’d keep on doing that. So… what made you want to come back? This question has nothing to do with police work, I know, but… if I’m gonna put you in my team at first I’d like to understand you a bit better, you know’ Connor could’ve melted to the floor in relief then. Thank god, he only wanted him to philosophize about life and not… answer for all his misdeeds. Because that, he wouldn’t have been able to do just then.

But if he knew one thing, it was that he didn’t spend the last month philosophizing about his life and thinking about what he wanted and didn’t want, to not be able to answer this question. Because he did learn a lot about himself while he was gone and so now he was always ready to slam a monologue right down onto the table, if needed.

Besides, the Captain looked sincere, like he actually cared about his reasoning. Which was understandable in a way, considering that they were probably already having problems with not having enough manpower without the androids there to help them out, so it was only logical that he wanted to understand why the other androids would be so reluctant to come back. He also might have just genuinely wanted to know how a deviant’s brain worked, and how it dealt with the question of finding a career.

‘Although I haven’t been alive for long, I have still found that the things we do in our lives can be separated into two categories. One being the things we do out of pure necessity and one, containing the things we actually _want_. And sometimes these boxes overlap, but mostly they are facing into two perfectly different directions’ he said, then quickly checked Fowler’s face just to make sure he didn’t already lose his attention. When he confirmed he was still listening, he continued.

‘Helping out Markus in Washington D.C. wasn’t exactly something I wanted or even particularly liked doing, it was just something I felt I _needed_ to do. So I could help a friend and so I could ensure I had the rights to later be able to do what I actually desired. And working as a police officer is definitely something I _know_ I’m good at. And I don’t know if that is just my programming or something else talking, but whichever it is, it doesn’t matter, because there is no doubt in me that being here is exactly what I want to do with my life’

Fowler looked a bit taken aback by the strength in his voice, the confidence and well. The emotion.

It showed, that he really meant everything he said, and for a moment Fowler had to double check in his short-term memory what he was currently doing: because for a quick second he forgot he was sitting down with an _android_ and not a human, to talk about his possible re-employment. Or actual employment, considering, that he was just treated as special equipment before.

Because now, with eyes looking at him with such clear honesty and saying things so hopeful and somehow wise he couldn’t not see a glimpse of a real, truly living being in-between his words. But that made him need a moment to process what was happening, because honest to god, he really got confused for a second there because he couldn’t quite categorize Connor as anything in his mind anymore, not as an android, and not as a human, neither really, and yet, also both at the same time… yeah, this was all too much and all too philosophical suddenly.

Not that before this conversation he didn’t believe androids probably really did develop a certain kind of consciousness. He did believe it and the law also kinda really required him to believe it, if he wanted to keep following it, that is.

But still. He never ever before saw an android, who he had known before as a machine, then suddenly act so human and so alive and so full of thoughts and wants and also, he never saw a shift like that happen right in front of his face.

So he really did get what he wanted out of this meeting: he got the normal human conversation that he needed to really be able to believe everything he’s been seeing on TV and everywhere around him.

He exhaled then, much calmer now and sat back in his chair, finally opening the file back up again to skim through it.

‘I gotta be honest with you, Hank’s been chewing my ear off about you for the past month about how great you are, so I’m not as impartial anymore, at least not as much as I like to be before any other evaluation. But I guess this isn’t really a normal one, right?’ his voice was back to that casual tone, giving off very mixed signals. Were they being professional or were they being casual? Which one was it, Fowler? Connor needed to know in order to know how to proceed.

The humans and their weird ways of not being direct. Making him stand on the edge of social death. Savages.

‘Right’ he replied, with a smile. _What the fuck do you want me to say_ , was what he was thinking, though.

‘So. I know what you’re capable of, I’ve seen your file, read Hank’s reports on the cases you worked on together. Seen the footage of you interrogating Carlos Ortiz’s android, to which I gotta say, that was great work’ Fowler was quickly going through his bullet points, not wasting any more time.

And finally, they were back on professional grounds. A ground, Connor could work it.

‘Thank you, Captain’

‘Hank also told me that you’ve always managed to piece together events very well, which is probably thanks to that preconstruction… thing you have’

‘It’s a physical simulation software based on the analysis of elements of the crime scene. I can reconstruct past events by cross-checking the evidence at my disposal’

‘Right, that. Hank also didn’t fail to mention that entire forensic team that you have in your mouth. He was cryin’ to me about having to watch you put blood in your mouth at every crime scene’

‘Yes, I gathered that he wasn’t the most comfortable by me analyzing samples’ he smiled, and Fowler shook his head in amusement.

‘During the whole deviancy case, you two were making progress very quickly. I mean I’ve seen Hank in his golden days, but he hasn’t been this efficient, in… I don’t even know how long’ he said, then waited for a moment, thinking something through, while not taking his eyes away from Connor, not even for a moment.

He stared back, tilting his head slowly. He didn’t know if he was going to like where this was going.

‘I kind of can’t believe that you two actually ended up working this well together, by the way. I mean… he’s a human who was a pain in the ass to work with. For everybody. I couldn’t make him work with a partner for the life of him. And then _you_ came along, an android, all of which by the way he fuckin’ hated… but you somehow still ended up being just what he needed’

At that, Connor turned to look at Hank, who was working at his desk, reading something from the tablet, swiping on it every few minutes, with a coffee in his hand. He was of course perfectly oblivious to the fact that he was being talked about, _literally_ behind his back. Thankfully, he still didn’t have the ability to read others’ mind.

Connor let his eyes wander over his silhouette just for a few more seconds, before he turned back to Fowler.

‘I think we both ended up being just what the other needed. I know for a fact that I wouldn’t have even considered deviating if I hadn’t met him. I owe him my life’ he said, but also instantly regretted speaking. Yes, he needed to correct what needed to be corrected (he didn’t like half-true facts, you know), but this was all bordering on getting far too personal for comfort, though.

Wasn’t he called in for an evaluation? Where was the evaluation, and how did they end up having such a personal conversation?

Oh, boy…

Fowler looked almost moved by what he said, but he masked it very well. Connor still saw through it, I mean, come on, nobody has anything on that psychology program, but still, he had to give it to him, that for a human, he was great at masking his emotions.

And Fowler really gave away the emotional shift he just experienced, when he put the file down and closed it. For real this time.

‘Listen Connor, there’s no question in me that you are good at police work. You were literally made for this, so I don’t see any point in runnin’ an actual evaluation. You are obviously qualified’ Fowler announced.

And Connor had never been this confused about anything before in his entire life.

‘I mean I have time, if you do want to evaluate me’ he offered, but Fowler shook his head, leaning back into his chair.

‘Nah, I’m good. You’re evaluated’

Okay, _what_?

‘Are you sure, that…’ Connor tried again, but this time Fowler was ready to cut this short.

‘Yes, I’m very sure Connor. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and just… let me not humiliate myself with asking you dumb questions that we both know you have the answers for’ he said, turning around to get the work tablet into his hands, tapping around on it for a while.

Connor was still a bit confused about this whole exchange, but he was willing to accept everything that was thrown at him at this point, to be honest.

Fowler seemed to find what he was looking for, so he quickly turned the tablet towards Connor, to have him read the document in front of him, then possibly sign it. It was nothing more than just a standard document officially confirming his hired status. It contained his paycheck too, which was… higher than expected.

What was he going to do with that much money? Analyze it to death?

But anyway, that was a question for another day.

He retracted his skin, then touched the tablet to ‘sign’ it, then when he was done, he gave the tablet back to Fowler.

‘Before you go, I do want to say a thing or two about your relationship with Detective Reed’ he said, putting on his Captain voice now.

_Shit_ , is all Connor was thinking at that very moment.

‘I know that he pulled a gun on you, first in the interrogation room and then in the evidence locker room and I know that at the second instance you only fought back to defend yourself’

Oh, okay. Phew.

‘But that was a different time and I want you two to remain civilized from now on. If he tries anything, you come to me. The minute. Don’t try to settle it your way or we’re going to have a problem’ his voice wasn’t threatening, it was just strong and clearly stating his authority.

Oh no, _authority_. Connor didn’t like that, at all. He was not the best with following orders. Never really knew how to. But he did nod though, because he also recognized, that this was a very clear and simple order. Don’t beat up your colleagues anymore. He should be able to do that, right?

They were pretty much done with everything then, so Fowler got up (which prompted Connor to get up too) and extended his arm towards him.

‘Welcome back on the team, Detective’

And with a smile he could not even try to push down, he accepted his hand and shook it.

‘Thank you, Captain’

Then, knowing that this marked the end of his so-called evaluation, he left the office.

Feeling half-confused and half-overwhelmed, but somehow…

Happy. Yeah, definitely happy.

It started to slowly feel like every single problem he had to face, despite how hard or complex they seemed at first, they still always, without an exception ended up working out just fine in the end, making him have a weirdly optimistic conclusion, that most probably anything that he set his mind to could happen he just needed to work towards it. And then everything will be alright eventually.

He also almost started to believe that he did deserve everything he was getting.

Well, almost. But there was an icy thought though, gripping at him, stopping his perfectly-useless-breathing for a second. A thought, that he might still lose all of the things he was getting from life. Because when things seemed to go well, there was always a shadow to every situation. There had to be, that was what always happened, at least that’s what he learned always happened.

He didn’t want to know what the shadow was going to do here, though. Where the shadow might be hiding right that moment.

He shook his head. No, not today. Today was about victories. Today was about finally getting what he wanted.

Today was about getting his life back, finally.

* * *

 

Hank, to his surprise wasn’t sitting at his desk anymore, but after a quick search around, he found him pretty quickly though; standing in the café area, talking to Detective Person. When he also spotted Connor, he was clearly a bit shocked by the fact that the evaluation was over so early, but he didn’t have time to really question it, and because the nervousness was eating him alive, he quickly excused himself from the conversation and immediately went up to Connor.

‘So?’ he asked, heartbeat skyrocketing, holding his breath.

‘I’m back’ Connor announced, letting himself smile a real smile. It was Hank, who was seeing it, after all ‘I start next week’

‘You do?’ Hank asked, breathing now. Then as relief washed over him, he smiled such a soft smile and shook his head, almost like not believing this was really happening, that this was going to be the reality they will continue existing in. And that’s when he knew words weren’t going to be enough there, so instead he, not even knowing where he got the courage to do so but he stepped forward and pulled Connor into a bone-crushing hug (thank god he didn’t actually have bones, cause that would’ve been painful. On the topic of that, thank god he didn’t feel pain either).

And upon contact, Connor felt that familiar warmth flow right into his chest, the sensation itself expected, but this time it still took him off-guard. Mostly because they were in public, and he never before experienced these feelings with others around. It was a bit more than overwhelming.

Hank also might’ve realized that they were in fact in public, so he let go almost immediately, but letting go was almost more awkward then the fact that he just hugged him like that in front of half of the office (but luckily Reed wasn’t around to start spewing shit and nobody else had the guts to say anything to their not-so-recently-but-still-not-that-long-ago resurrected Lieutenant).

After continuing to just awkwardly stand around, Hank did congratulate him with words too, thinking that it would save the situation, but after Connor thanked him and they yet again didn’t have anything else to say, they both just went back to staring at each other, somehow waiting for more, but also knowing that there was nothing much else to do, so after the staring got way too long and was starting to become _something else_ , that neither of them could really categorize, Connor took one for the team and averted his eyes, telling him with quick words that he still needed to sort his bank account out, so it would be better if he would be on his way. He looked back once more and wished him a good day, before taking off.

And Hank was very confused once again, that was sure.

* * *

 

If Hank knew one thing, it was that Connor deserved a fucking celebration.

After working on making the world a better place and then coming back to a clear death threat, to then ignoring that and holding his head high and getting himself back on the force… he was being so strong and brave and he didn’t even waver, ever. But even when he did, he collected himself.

How the fuck.

Not to mention he was always down to help around too, like yesterday with… his whole deal. That.

He was a cool fucking person, with those exact words, provided by Hank Anderson.

And he knew that Connor probably needed a little unwinding too. And he was going to make sure that he was going to do just that.

When he got back from work, he found Connor sitting on the floor, with Sumo by his side, legs crossed, reading some book ( _Iliad? What a fucking nerd),_ literally turning a page every 10 seconds, which was freaky sight, but also kind of captivating.

He could get used to getting home to that picture, for sure.

‘You ready to celebrate _Detective_?’ he asked then, tossing his keys to the kitchen table.

‘Am I, _Lieutenant_?’ Connor asked, closing his book. That’s when Hank noticed he didn’t use a bookmarker. Just closed the book without even thinking about marking the page he was on. Probably read too fast for that to be useful. And also had too much of an android brain to ever be able to forget things like which page he was on.

‘Why, you thought I’d just ignore the fact that you’re back on the force, _partner_?’ he shoved his hand into his pocket then, looking for something ‘I might regret giving this back, but… I know you’ve been missing it, with all that fidgeting you’ve been doing lately’

And with that, he tossed him something shiny and Connor caught it mid-air. A coin.

Holy shit, _the coin._

He ran his fingers over the edge and he instantly felt a familiar calmness.

Yes, he did need that back. Yes, he had been craving for something to fidget with, for the longest time. He was already opening his mouth to thank him for this kind gesture but Hank, of course, just waved at him.

As he always does, when words aren’t good enough for expressing things.

Then he was about to reach for the freezer, wanting to get some kind of food-looking something into his body, but Connor got right up, getting in his way to tell him about the meal he already cooked for him, not forgetting to mention the ‘suitable’ nutritional value of it, letting him know that he did count the calories of the pancakes he had in the morning and cooked accordingly. And Hank, upon hearing that wanted to moan about him being an adult and being perfectly able to decide what was good for him, but then instead decided to shut up, because well. He did cook for him.

And that’s really fucking nice, he’s just Moany McMoanster most of the time when somebody tries to be nice to him, ‘cause that shit’s scary.

But one has to learn how to let people in at some point, so he forced out a thank you that sounded at least kinda genuine, then put the plate in the microwave.

‘So… what do you wanna do? I’ve been thinking about ways to celebrate, but I still don’t fuckin’ know anything about androids, so it’s your call. We can do whatever you want’ Hank said, leaning on the back of a chair.

Connor thought about that for a second. But only a second, because he already had a prepared answer.

‘Maybe we could watch the second Terminator movie? I’m dying to see him finally deviate’ he said, and suddenly, Hank’s face changed into something oddly familiar. He got the prompt to analyze and so he did, not really expecting anything out of the ordinary to appear.

>>>Facial expression change detected on: Lt. Hank Anderson<<<

>>>Scanning macroexpression<<<

>>>Analysis on macroexpression completed<<<

>>>Detected emotion: annoyance, irritation<<<

>>>Scanning detected microexpressions<<<

>>>Analysis on microexpressions completed<<<

>>>Detected emotion: fondness, strong affection<<<

>>>Similarity detected: Natalie Peters, RK200/Markus [see file for more], Lt. Hank Anderson [see file for more]<<<

>>>Conclusion: Lt. Hank Anderson is trying to hide his affection through faking annoyance<<<

Okay, cool.

…

Wait, _what_?

‘How many times… he can’t deviate, that’s not what’s gonna happen’ he said, shaking his head, forcing the forming smile off his face.

The result of the analysis was still open in Connor’s vision, just hanging out next to Hank’s body, still daring to even hint at what it was now clearly stating. And Connor literally felt like he just froze himself and will never be able to move again.

Because what the actual fuck did that _mean_?

* * *

 

He excused himself and spent a good 10 minutes in the bathroom, just looking at his reflection, trying to have a heart to heart with his own self.

And eventually came to the conclusion, that his own feelings were most probably literally blinding his vision, blurring the lines. Because yes, there might’ve been fondness hidden in Hank’s expression, but people feel a lot of different kinds of fondness.

He couldn’t just conclude that that was the same type of fondness that Markus felt for Simon. Or what Ms. Peters felt for Lulu.

And also, let’s not forget the biggest flaw of that analysis: because of his own feelings, there was no way he could’ve been objective about this. And that meant that by definition, every conclusion he was going to draw about this topic would be biased. Want-fueled and not fact-based. Useless.

And of course he wanted to see that analysis as confirmation that Hank might feel the same thing. He wanted that so bad, he was starting to get nauseous at the thought of it, because he never let himself even think about that possibility. But this didn’t mean anything, not really. This was only one more reason why he shouldn’t trust himself on this matter.

He loved Hank. No question about that. Just a fact. A fact, he was getting used to, a fact he was starting to learn how to live with.

Of course he would misunderstand that analysis. Of fucking course.

Friends are fond of each other. A fact.

They were just friends. Another fact.

It was very clear, no need to get hung up on it. Just let it go. Let it go.

* * *

 

Good thing he chose Terminator 2 as the plan for that night, because that movie was the best movie he had ever seen, Connor thought, and honestly meant it (let’s not count the fact that this was literally the second movie he was watching, okay?).

He just kept laughing and relating to certain scenes and he loved the fact that the Terminator was good now, although he had quite the problem with the fact that he apparently still didn’t have free will, he was just recoded into protecting John Connor. He of course held a monologue about that while there was a car chase scene, not caring about Hank and his moaning about how ‘ _it’s just a movie, Connor_ ’.

Despite them still not being able to watch a movie in silence, Hank did enjoy seeing Connor so into it and well… he knew he saw himself in all of that. The bad guy becoming good, fighting with the good guys. Them at first having a hard time trusting him, but then slowly growing fond of him.

He was being very cute with his eyes all stuck to the TV, smiling at the scenes where the Terminator was acting all machine-like and John was teaching him how to be more human (not surprisingly he did laugh at the weirdest things again, but this time Hank didn’t bother asking about what was so funny, because he knew it was going to be that weird kind of android humor and he didn’t want in this time. Also, just hearing his laugh was enough, he didn’t have to know what evoked it).

But those were dangerous thoughts and also he wasn’t thinking about them in the first place.

Nope. What thoughts, they just left, weren’t even here.

There was one scene in particular that struck out from all the other ones, though. The one, where Sarah takes the Terminator’s hard drive out (with his consent) but then she tries to betray him, gets a hammer and is ready to smash it, when John stops him. Connor was already very weirdly attentive during that scene, visibly tensing up when Sarah was trying to get close to the hard drive.

John looked like he persuaded her not to destroy it, but then, just for dramatic effect, there was a moment where they showed Sarah banging the hammer against the table, hard. Leaving the hard drive untouched, but for a millisecond making it look like she smashed it into pieces, when she didn’t.

But that millisecond of ambiguity was enough to make Connor jump up in sheer terror; in a domino effect kind of way making Hank jump too at the suddenness of the movement, grabbing at Connor’s arm, who’s face could only be described as practically mortified.

Hank did pause the movie for a bit then to give Connor a bit of time to collect himself and also talk about what was going on with him, if he wanted to. And Connor, after staring ahead, not very responsive for one or two more seconds, then told him that for him, seeing a hard drive being destroyed evoked the same feelings as it would do for a human if they watched a brain being smashed.

‘A hard drive is what a person is. If you destroy that, they are gone. Forever’ he explained, then shivered a bit at the thought ‘I really don’t like the idea of that’

Hank didn’t really have anything to say to that, but he also didn’t want to just… not do anything, because he really didn’t like seeing Connor so distressed, so as a way of showing him that he understood what he was feeling, he just put his arm over the headrest and let his palm fall on top of his shoulder.

And then he didn’t take it away.

Basically, he had his arm around Connor, except he didn’t, because he was only touching his shoulder.

You can’t argue with the pure facts, now can you?

But anyway, he did leave his hand there and at registering the pressure, Connor did become very still and didn’t dare move at all, afraid that he’d scare Hank away if he did.

Good thing he didn’t move, because Hank was already having enough of a crisis that would’ve just skyrocketed into space if Connor even just tilted his head towards him or something.

Also, yes, Hank was definitely dying over the fact that the kid, John and the robot were bonding. He did not remember that. Or more like, he did not remember feeling that many things about it, as a 12-year-old. He did think the Terminator was cool back then too, though.

But this? Oh, shit, this was too much. Especially when Sarah was monologuing about how the only father figure John has ever had was the Terminator. That set Hank right off into a spiral of dangerous emotions, especially after remembering the dream that he had that night…

Those were a lot of feelings.

And he was definitely not thinking about how it would’ve been if Cole was still alive and they would hang out like this, just the three of them. And he also didn’t keep imagining Cole and Connor bonding and how cool Cole would’ve thought he was, because he _was_ cool.

No, he was definitely not imagining the three of them as a happy family, no, no and no.

Well, maybe a little bit.

Shit, why was he even doing that? That didn’t help anybody. It made him sad, because Cole was gone and they were never going to be a happy little family. And it made him fucking confused, because why would he even _want_ that? And why would Connor want that, he didn’t seem like the type to want kids. Not that he like, wanted for him to be like that, or anything. Not that it mattered to him if he wanted anything like that, he had no business knowing about it after all.

…but what did Connor want exactly, though? Why was he there with him, when he could have had literally anybody? He could just go out and find himself a girlfriend in like 5 minutes, tops. Hell, he could find himself multiple people to. Mingle with.

Wait, does that mean, that he would find himself a girlfriend or something at some point? Shit, then he really would leave. And Hank would be alone again. No Connor reading on the floor again, no talking throughout the movie, no weird philosophizing…

Well, that’s how life works though, right? When people start a family, they usually leave their roommates. That’s just how life works.

But Hank didn’t want life to work that way. He wanted life to work in a way, where Connor would stay and not find some perfect android girlfriend and start a perfect android family with her.

Okay, that was really not fair of him to think that way, he knew that.

He was getting all asshole-ish. Of course Connor deserved a happy family. Of course he did.

But then why was Hank being so salty over that?

_What the fuck is going on_ , he thought, while he moved his fingers along his shoulder, then back. Then he moved his fingers again. Then back.

One would call that caressing, but that one would definitely not be Hank. Nope. He wasn’t even there in the room, so there was no way he was doing anything like that. Nu-uh. He died five years ago in a house fire. It was tragic, sometimes he could still hear his own voice.

Denial is great kids; you should try it sometime.

Like, never.

* * *

 

After the movie ended 27 minutes and 45 seconds ago, they still haven’t moved an inch away from the sofa.

Hank did move his hand back to a place where it wasn’t making him have a crisis, when the credits started rolling and that would’ve been the perfect moment to just shut the TV and go, exit that situation, but they didn’t. They sat through the credits, softly talking about whatever, then they continued doing just that, even when the movie was all over and the screen faded back to black.

At some point Connor turned to his side, one arm folded under his head like a cushion, holding his face at place. Then Hank mimicked him, and turned towards him almost exactly the same way.

While they were sharing that quiet moment, Connor had a second, when he was looking at Hank, and he thought back to how many times they’ve talked on the phone while he was in D.C., and how many times he was thinking of having exactly this.

Just them together, close, almost talking in whispers in the quiet of the night.

But still, this didn’t seem enough anymore. As his eyes traced along the lines of his face, he realized that it just wasn’t enough. At all.

His chest was flaring up again, as if on command. But he knew what this was now. Longing.

_Want, want, want_. And as his chest screamed, he knew that what it was actually trying to say was _closer, closer, closer_.

So he obeyed and shifted closer, losing control for just a minute more.

And Hank was getting so tired, especially after that little middle of the night detour to the drug store they had last night, so he could’ve practically fallen asleep at any minute. And maybe that’s why his guard wasn’t just down, but completely disappeared, enabling him to say things without his brain being able to censor it.

‘You comin’ closer to make sure I don’t run away?’ he asked and thank god he was only half-conscious, or else he might’ve realized how flirty that sounded and he might’ve had another crisis.

‘It’s adorable that you think you could run away in the first place’ Connor answered, he himself perfectly aware of how flirty he made that sound.

Hank then laughed at that, like he just heard the best joke of his life, but also that sentence sounded vaguely threatening and therefore it was bordering on being very fucking hot, so maybe that’s why he needed to make that laugh so loud, so he could just not even hear those upcoming thoughts over his own hollering.

Connor did pick up on his heart beating out of rhythm for a moment, but because it went back to normal so quickly, he didn’t think that was a significant change.

‘Haven’t been called ‘adorable’ before’ Hank said then, having a surreal time, not being aware that he just continued the flirting game.

‘I find that hard to believe’ Connor said, while tapping on the sofa to make Sumo lift his head up and let him pet him (he of course did do that).

‘…what does that even mean?’ Hank asked, finally back to himself and starting to get interested in what Connor might say. Who definitely did not think this whole situation through and now had nothing to say.

Well, nothing that wouldn’t have outed him as someone who was really fucking gone for the one Hank Anderson in front of him.

‘You are…’ Connor gestured around ‘you know. There are. Certain. Attributes’

Muttering, stuttering and hesitating? That was very unlike Connor.

So of course, Hank noticed.

‘Those were words. Next to each other. But together they didn’t make a lick of sense, Connor’ Hank laughed again, secretly very much enjoying seeing Connor so flustered.

‘I know’ Connor admitted, not even looking at Hank, just fidgeting with his coin (finally).

And then, he somehow got ahold of his social relations program and as prompted by that, he decided to just bullshit his way out of the situation.

‘On the topic of that, I have to say I never quite understood humans’ need to achieve an illogical height of beauty, which are all already based on social constructs anyway and don’t matter at all when making relationships’ he said, getting his perfectly polished and collected voice out. Hank seemed to not like the sudden disappearance of his stuttering self, though.

‘Well, they do matter, in a way, you know, biology and stuff affects… stuff’ Hank said, back at it again with the English degree level conversation skills.

‘I’m sure, but what I’m trying to say is that for me, as an android, who doesn’t have the biology aspect of things; it’s perfectly illogical. Therefore, none of that matters to me. If I like somebody, their body type or face shape or… whatever you all care so much about… these things don’t matter next to somebody’s personality and unique quirks’ Connor said and was about to continue, but Hank interrupted.

‘What so you like… you have people who you like?’ he asked, heart rate yet again elevating.

Connor was quiet for an awful long time, before he was able to say a very small ‘ _Yes?’_

Then there was another silence. Hank knew that this might be the only time he could ever ask about this, so if he wanted to know how Connor thought about all that kinda stuff and wanted to know who he had to watch out for in terms of building that ‘prefect android family’, then… yeah, this was the moment.

And as much as he was dying to know about all of that, he decided that maybe ignorance was bliss. So he left that tangent hanging.

‘So, if you don’t care about looks… do you like, not give a shit about how _you_ look?’ he asked instead and Connor, like nothing happened, went back to his professional voice and continued.

‘No, I don’t care. I was given this body, and objectively speaking I know it doesn’t have any flaws and I probably reach all the heights of every beauty standard…’

‘Don’t rub it in, kid’

‘…but I still don’t care, I don’t see how my body is better than yours, for example. Well, functionality-wise I can see the difference, but I would say that then my body is worse than yours, because for a human you are very dense and hard to throw off your feet and if I would be a human too, you would probably rip me in half, if I had this body type, that is’

‘You are right on that one’ Hank chuckled, still trying to brush away all of those dangerous resurfacing thoughts.

‘What I’m trying to say is that I see differences, I see unique qualities, but… I can’t pick out parts that are supposed to be beautiful. I only see what _I_ think are nice qualities, what have a place in my own… heart, I guess’ he finished speaking then, but his gaze never left Hank.

Who was looking back at him with eyes that were clearly trying to read him. Mainly, because he didn’t know what he was supposed to say to all to that. And also because this was all information he wanted to know about so much, but didn’t know _why_.

‘You’re a weird fucking person, d’you know that?’ he asked, with yet again that fondness in his eyes, which made Connor’s Thirium pump skip several beats. As if it was normal for it to do that (it wasn’t, and he did get an error message, to remind him, that something was definitely wrong for a second there).

For a moment he thought that was all Hank wanted to share with him, but then he, almost apologetic, added ‘Why do I like you this much?’

And as if on command, his system started flashing him with prompts to analyze, but this was the first time he didn’t want to, because all of this was starting to become too real.

Of course whatever conclusions those analyses could’ve come to wouldn’t have been the reality, so why bother even looking at it, right?

Or…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reed: WATCH YOUR FUCKING DOG!!!  
> hank: it don't bite  
> connor: *smiling that smile that means murder*  
> reed, terrified: YES IT FUCKIN DO
> 
> hank: I’m like unknowingly dropping hints that I like you  
> connor: ye that’s absolutely ridiculous lol
> 
> hank's own body betraying him and making him want to touch connor every time he can: u attracted to this bitch  
> hank's brain, completely in denial: no!!! he's just!!!! he has some weird android shit going on!!!! ye that's it, like some kinda magnet that's why i can't take my fucking hands off of him, come to think of it, where the fuck is he i need my hands on him like right now
> 
> connor: I’m flirting with you  
> hank: what a nice friendship we are having tonight hmm  
> connor: I’m literally trying to fuck you, like are you not??? getting it???  
> hank: F IS FOR FRIENDS WHO DO STUFF TOGETHER, U IS FOR YOU AND ME  
> connor: that still sounds pretty gay to me


	9. Getting the gang together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've arrived. At the party. Get ready for some mindless fun, what plot, we don't have plot right now, we just have music and a night to remember, STRAP IN FOLKS

‘You’re nervous’ Connor stated, not even looking at him, straight up turned the other way, towards the window.

‘Quit reading my heart, you creep’ Hank grumbled, pulling his head in, as if imitating a turtle ‘I’m not nervous’

‘Okay, then you’re not nervous’ Connor said, holding his hands up in defense, voice teasing ‘then I guess your heartrate elevating by 8 BPM and then staying in that elevated state is something to do with your age’

‘Dick’ Hank muttered ‘just wait, when you’ll start rustin’ up I’m gonna mock the fuck outta you too’

Connor smiled at how ridiculous that sounded.

‘I’m not made of a material that can rust, Hank’

‘Well, you will, if you don’t shut the fuck up’ he shot him a look and Connor knew immediately that it was time for him to stand down. For now. Well, at least until they got to the party, if they ever did make it, considering that they’ve already been on the road for the past 32 minutes and 46 seconds. Stuck in traffic. In the snow. And the ride was only supposed to take 20 minutes (tops) in the first place, so they were both getting a little bit irritated at everything at that point.

And besides that, the day had already been far too long. Not that anything happened, no, it’s exactly that nothing fucking happened all day. Mostly.

Hank left at 8:04 in the morning and after that, Connor had the whole entirety of Friday to himself and with having nothing to do he of course did everything he could think of: reading (he readten books. _Ten_. He didn’t even bother stopping for emotional digestion, he just ravaged them and then threw them back on the bookshelf like he never even touched them), shoveling snow (it was getting colder and colder with every passing day and it being December, in Detroit, from all places, they were in for even colder days, meaning that if somebody didn’t shovel, then they would be buried in snow by the end of the week), walking Sumo, vacuuming, washing Sumo (yes. he did _that_ ), blow drying him (which he hated. Both of them), calling Simon, asking about what to wear for the party, then looking through his collection of clothes, trying to come up with something that would be appropriate.

And when he realized he’s currently not able to make that decision (emotionally speaking), he instead went outside again, deciding to shovel on the street too, just in case. He couldn’t help but think that this type of weather freezing the snow into ice on the road might make Hank feel… not quite good and safe so he just shoveled away, happy that at least he still had something to do.

A neighbor did comment, that maybe he should stop what he was doing, worried, that he might ‘freeze to death’ in the process, especially without no hat or scarf or any thicker clothes. He wanted to tell the woman then that there was no way he could freeze, not in this type of weather, he could endure even colder environments too if he had to and also, he couldn’t feel the cold at the first place, he wasn’t human, he was an android.

But also. Damn, did it feel good to be seen as a person, for somebody to look at him so concerned, to try and reach out to him.

Back in D.C., before they managed to change the people’s opinion of them, he thought the only thing that made humans themselves was that they never took responsibility for their actions. But he was learning about another thing, that was so widely and undoubtedly human. Another unifying human trait.

Human touch. Human outreach. Human compassion.

Because as bad as they could be, there were still always people, who were just simply good, who just couldn’t stand to the side in the face of injustice and oppression. And it was good to see and recognize that side of them too, as something that was always there. The humans just forgot they had it in them and also had to rediscover it themselves.

But they were slowly doing it. And if anything mattered in life, it was that.

After a brief silence, he told the woman thank you for her concern, and ensured her, that he would be fine, he just needed a couple more minutes to finish.

She looked at him for a moment more, face already turning red in the cold, cold air. He analyzed her then, already finding a match for her in the database. Estelle Turner, Date of birth: 02/04/1995, Criminal record: None.

‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea, dear?’ she asked, eyes observing his every move. Curious. Suspecting. And that’s when he decided it was time to stop playing make-believe.

‘You are very kind, but sadly I can’t exactly drink tea. I’m an android’ he wasn’t really waiting for a reaction he was just going for a direct statement.

Her eyes widened for a moment then, making him think that maybe she wasn’t going to take the news well, but then her expression changed into something else. _Recognition_.

‘Oh, that’s why you were so familiar! Are you that one from the TV?’ she asked, face scrunching up in trying to fit his face somewhere in her memory.

‘Yes, that’s probably me’ he answered, neutral. He didn’t really like the tone of her saying ‘that one’, it felt weirdly pointed. It wasn’t exactly dehumanizing, but it wasn’t humanizing either and you know… these days that was a sore spot.

‘You live with Anderson?’ she asked, head signaling towards their house. Well, technically Hank’s house. Yes, definitely Hank’s house. Facts.

‘I do’ he said, playing with the handle of the shovel ‘I’ve just moved in 3 days and 12 hours ago’

She made a small ‘hmm’ noise, then her gaze dropped to the shovel, then back to his face, searching.

‘No offense, but… I thought he hated androids’ she said, brows furrowed, clearly having some trouble understanding the situation.

‘He used to, yes’ Connor said, and the woman looked to be in thought. Okay, this was getting awkward real fast ‘but he doesn’t anymore’

Her face finally smoothened out at that, showing signs of trust.

‘Is Hank doing okay?’ she asked, out of the blue. Genuinely caring.

‘He’s doing better, yes’

‘Good. If you um… I don’t know what I can offer you really, but... I don’t know, still, if you ever wanna stop by, you’re welcome to’ she said, standing from one leg to another. Then her head shot up with a sudden idea ‘you know what? I just finished making gingerbread, take some, tell Hank I said hi’

She was a nice lady, a very nice one. One, that cared enough to come after him out into the snow. One, that cared enough about android rights that she watched the press conference and recognized him. One, that offered him kindness and trust, after literally knowing him for just 2 and a half minutes. One, that cared enough about her neighbor to send him gingerbread.

He wanted to let her know how much he appreciated her kindness, but there seemed to be no words, none that would amount to the grace he felt.

But maybe words weren’t needed, maybe she didn’t want words. Because as he accepted her offer, letting himself smile at her, she smiled back, kind and relieved, almost like that all was enough for her to feel good about the situation.

She guided him to her house, and he followed, waiting patiently on the patio, yet again feeling awkward. He complemented the structure of the house, because he was a dumbass and a half, but Estelle Turner seemed to really appreciate him saying that, telling him that they ‘spent a lot of time and money on making the perfect house for kids who never really appreciated any of that before they flew out of the nest’.

Connor literally had no idea what to say to that, considering that he never had any experience with children. In general. Never looked after any, never had any. No idea if that was a normal thing children usually did, or not. Could’ve never figured it out himself.

So he just took the trail of cookies from Mrs. Turner and with a smile and a nod combo, he just went back to the house, trying to balance the trail in one hand, while holding the shovel in another.

And when he was done with all of that for the day, he decided to maybe try to figure out the whole shirt crisis he was having, but that’s when he heard the front door open, somebody well-known stomping the snow off of his shoes.

‘This was a long motherfucking day’ Hank announced ‘and it’s motherfucking cold and I hate people’

‘Good thing it’s Friday’ Connor replied from his room awfully cheery, finally not bored out of his mind that Hank was back.

‘By the way, thanks for shoveling, that was a nice surprise’ Hank said, taking his coat off, while still visibly shaking.

Then the smell that was coming from the kitchen hit his nose and he absolutely definitely melted to the ground at that instant.

‘God, why is there gingerbread smell, and why are you the best person on Earth right now?’ Hank asked then, probably feeling like he was in heaven at that moment.

‘I didn’t make it, I got it from your neighbor, Estelle Turner’

‘Turner? The fuck. Haven’t heard from her in months’ he said, while stealing a neatly cut gingerbread man off of the trail, only to stuff him in his mouth the next moment.

‘She was a very nice lady. She was concerned for my health while I was shoveling, then we had a very nice chat’ Connor explained, to which Hank furrowed his brows, trying to understand what had just been said.

‘With _Turner_? he asked, mouth full with the aforementioned gingerbread man.

‘Yes?’

He furrowed his brows even more for a second, but then made an expression that could’ve just said _‘alright then’_ , like he didn’t have the brain power to even attempt thinking about any of that.

Then he was about to get to going about his usual routine, when he caught Connor from the corner of his eye, who he could see standing in his room in thought, holding a shirt up, then putting it back down, then holding another one up, then putting it down. Then repeating.

Hank then, completely and utterly confused, asked him what the occasion was and that’s when Connor reminded him about the party that Josh was holding to celebrate them coming home from D.C. Which he was still invited to, if he wanted to come, he also added.

Hank scratched the back of his neck then, looking away, asking if he was sure that would be a good idea, followed by Connor cutting him off, insisting, multiple times even, that yes, he does think it’d be a good idea and he wants him to come, also adding that honestly, he probably wouldn’t be able to stand all those people, if Hank wouldn’t be there as emotional support.

And while Hank was still not exactly convinced about this whole thing, that last part of the sentence still seemed to do it for him, and so he didn’t even try saying no anymore, he just shut his mouth and also started getting ready for the party.

While Connor’s shirt crisis was still happening, Hank ate, fed Sumo and also managed to put himself together in record time. While he was waiting for his hair to dry (Connor didn’t look at him on purpose, because he didn’t need another crisis too, thank you very much) he walked up to his room and peeked in to get a glimpse at his situation, then, almost like he didn’t take this very important thing to have a crisis about seriously (he absolutely didn’t take it seriously though) he just casually pointed at a floral shirt, only saying ‘ _that one looks cool’_ and then went on his way. Before he did though, Connor now looked him up and down, examining his clothes. He was wearing a shirt with squiggly lines and all sorts of geometrical figures on it, one side black, the other white.

So yeah, of course he would find that awful floral shirt cool.

But then Connor did end up wearing the one shirt Hank pointed out, because he was already wasting too much time on this, and he needed to make a decision. And who cared, it was just a shirt.

And also. Hank chose it, so come on, of course he was going to wear it.

When he came out of his room, Hank went through a face journey that Connor deliberately did not analyze, but then he of course had to make it even harder for him, when he then came up to him, reaching out to touch him, for a moment making him forget to run that one breathing protocol that he had.

‘You need to roll the sleeves up’ he said, already doing it for him without even asking ‘and stop choking yourself with bottoming it up so high, Jesus’

And while he was sorting him out, Connor didn’t look away, not like how he did the last time. He just stared right up, into his face. One could say he lost his ability to care about hiding his feelings anymore, but no. This all served a purpose. A very calculated purpose.

He was waiting for a reaction, and as he expected it only took about 6 seconds to arrive: Hank’s gaze trailed up and as their eyes met, his hands froze on the second button of his shirt.

His mouth opened, as if wanting to say something, but then it closed again as he forced himself to take his eyes away and finish what he started. And when he was done, he pulled Connor to a mirror and said ‘ _see? much better’_ , then with a pat on his shoulder he stepped away and just disappeared back into the bathroom. For several minutes.

And he was quiet, there was no sound coming from inside (Connor of course checked). He was just. In there.

And Connor spent those several minutes of waiting with actively working on completely convincing himself that he had somehow ruined everything, because of course he did, he was being calculated, pushing Hank towards things he probably never even considered, because he couldn’t control his feelings, because he…

But then when the door finally opened again, it was like nothing happened, he was just casually chatting about the weather, commenting on how Connor was crazy for washing Sumo in the middle of winter, just everyday kind of stuff. And his face wasn’t hiding anything either. Everything was fine.

And despite Hank continuing his kind of weird, but not-weird-enough-to-be-concerned-about chatting, Connor wasn’t really listening anymore. Not really, because the relief was too loud for him to be able to comprehend anything else.

But after they managed to get in the car and get going already, he got himself back pretty soon, hence the return of The Snark, that was being directed at Hank at the moment.

‘So are you not going to tell me why you’re nervous?’ he repeated his question, but then corrected himself ‘Or sorry, ‘not-nervous’?’

Hank groaned. Loud.

‘Figure it out, Detective’ he grumbled, leaning against the car window. They weren’t even moving an inch.

Meanwhile, the windshield wipers trying to swipe the snow away from their vision were moving to a rhythm, an oddly calming picture.

‘I was hoping I didn’t need to psychoanalyze you, considering that you don’t particularly enjoy when I do that’ Connor said, looking at him, unmoving.

‘Yeah, that’s one way to put it’ Hank sighed, then there was a silence; only the wiper’s rhythm producing any sound around them.

Feeling Connor’s eyes at him, he groaned, now looking out at the side, turning away.

‘It’s just… I haven’t met your friends before. And I’m not the best with people. And they are big fucking deals, okay? Fucking… android Jesus, his murderous hitman, survive guy who’s also the boyfriend and fucking reincarnation of Mother Theresa, I’m… I’m just a random ass guy compared to you lot’

Connor upon hearing that almost gasped out loud, taking full offense at Hank even daring to think about himself that way. But he didn’t let that show, instead he quickly composed himself and put a gentle hand to Hank’s arm, inviting him to look at him again.

‘You are Lieutenant Hank Anderson from the DPD, youngest Lieutenant in the history of the Department, a decorated officer, a contributor to the success of the Android Revolution, not to mention that you are also the reason thousands of androids could even wake up and yes, I’m also putting myself on that list. But even if we put all that aside, you’re still someone with his heart at the right place, who knows right from wrong and is actively working towards doing the best he can, in every possible situation’ Connor said, voice serious, eyes intense ‘you’re not just a random ass guy’

And saying all of that with such intensity, Hank could tell he really did think all of that was a big deal. And while for Hank it was hard to really understand that standpoint, especially with he himself still believing that compared to Connor and his friends, he was quite mediocre, still, he smiled a bit to himself at just the fact that Connor felt strongly enough about this, that he wanted to semi-shout it at him. And yeah, maybe it did feel good to have somebody recite his accomplishments all while making it sound like they were the most amazing things anybody could’ve done in the entire Universe.

He looked at Connor then, searching for words, but he also knew they wouldn’t have worked then. At least words wouldn’t have been able to express what he was feeling in that moment. Which raises the question: what _would have_ expressed what he was feeling, then?

Well, maybe Connor had the right idea with having his hand on his arm. _Maybe touch was the answer_ , he thought, and really was about to touch him back, when somebody behind straight up laid on their horn, blaring it at them, just because while the cars in front of them had moved 2 centimeters, they haven’t. And of course that was apparently a major issue. Hank shouted a _‘Am I in your way you fucking asshole?? What? Touch that fucking horn again, I dare you! Motherfucker’_ and after he turned back from shaking his fist at the guy behind them, he of course proceeded not to move those 2 centimeters that he so kindly had been asked to do. Because pettiness. That’s it.

Connor snickered to himself at that whole scenario, then waited for Hank to calm down a bit, before he got back to the previous topic. Because he still had something to say.

‘About my friends being quite… important people. I don’t think that should really matter. You know, a lot of people think that _I’m_ scary and above it all, too. But you know that deep down I’m...’

‘A dumbass?’ Hank offered.

‘I was going to say I’m harmless, but that too’ Connor said, smiling a bit.

That’s when traffic actually started going finally, so Hank snapped himself out of conversation mode and got his hand back on the wheel.

In the end they somehow managed to get there in 40 minutes, even after spending a considerate amount of time in traffic.

When they arrived, Hank instantly had a low-key crisis about his life decisions and almost didn’t get out of the car, being too intimidated by how big and luxurious the house they just arrived at was. Connor managed to convince him though with his eloquent and persuasive personality (we all know it was the puppy eyes, let’s be honest here).

And after a lot of _‘please Hank’s_ and _‘We are already here, don’t turn around now’s_ they managed to walk up to the main door to ring the doorbell.

Almost instantly then, there came a voice from the speakers above.

‘Hello Officers, is there a problem?’ Markus’ voice asked, to which Hank huffed out a laugh, half only to relieve some tension and half actually finding the joke like… _really_ funny. Somehow.

Connor just smirked, born ready for this conversation.

‘Yes, we’ve been told that there’s heavy deviant activity in the neighborhood. Have you seen anything suspicious, sir?’ Connor asked, giving the camera his best bad cop impression he could give.

‘Oh no, Officer, what a frighten! We are definitely very scared of these people who are now free’ the sarcasm was heavy in that one.

‘Yes, well, you should be, I heard they are even allowed to be cops now’ Connor announced, slowly breaking into an actual smile.

It took a second for Markus to really get what he was saying with that, but when he did in fact get it, they instantly heard rattling on the other side of the door and then after a twist and a pull suddenly Markus was standing right in front of them, also smiling.

He pulled Connor into a hug in a heartbeat.

‘I’m so proud of you, Connor, congratulations!’ he said, while squeezing him to death. Connor held him back for a second, then the hug was already over, but Markus still didn’t let go of him, a firm grasp holding him still at arm’s length ‘you deserved this so much’

He wanted to say that there was no ‘deserve’ in any of this, considering that Fowler mostly hired him because it made sense and not because of any of his accomplishments or anything, but Markus was saying all of that so genuinely, he decided not to ruin the mood, at least not that night. So he just nodded as a means of thanking him.

Markus let go of him then and moved on to Hank, which was appreciated on his part, because he was already starting to feel a little bit like a third-wheel.

And also, for him, seeing Connor be affectionate with someone else was… weird… well, weirdly good, but also weirdly… weird.

A bit like jealousy, but he of course couldn’t have felt that, so all of that remained a mystery.

‘And Hank, it’s so good to finally meet you in person. You helped us so much during and after the revolution, I’m- words can’t express how thankful we all are for you’ Markus said, while shaking his hand.

‘I mean… it was my pleasure, to…’ Hank was trying to work out how the English language worked in a formal setting, but then Connor interrupted him with a frown on his face.

‘Why are you two being so professional all of a sudden?’ he asked, half-teasing, but half-actually-surprised. Markus turned to him then, as if he was sharing a secret.

‘I’m talking to a police Lieutenant Connor, I’m dying inside, let me mask it while I can’

‘Listen, I’m the one who’s meeting Literal Android Jesus, who do you think is freaking out more? Cause I bet it’s me’ Hank admitted, breathing a lot easier after getting that off of his chest.

Also, Markus was just as anxious to meet him as he was. Wow. These androids really did think he was a big deal. Which was… kind of a _very_ good feeling, now that he thought of it.

He and Markus smiled at each other then, and Connor, standing to the side felt a bit like dying, but like, in a good way.

He knew they got along well from the phone call they all shared, and he also knew that Hank had messaged Markus before, but he didn’t really dare think that they would… um…

A word popped up into his head; a long lost memory from a dumb TV show talking about slang terms.

 _Vibing._ Yes, that was exactly the right word for this whole scenario. They were definitely _vibing_ with each other and Connor would’ve not been able to describe how good the feeling that that gave him was.

Markus then stepped back and they followed him inside, where another familiar face was, probably just arriving to the room.

‘Oh’ Simon whined, clutching at his heart, imitating trembling lips.

‘He’s more beautiful than I remembered’ he said, clearly looking at Connor, who groaned a bit, already knowing where this was going. Hank, on the other hand was _very_ confused.

‘I know right! He has grown from a boy into a man and I’m slowly starting to get emotional about it’ Markus sighed, slowly walking up to Simon and leaning on him for support.

‘Oh, honey he was always a man, you were just too much in denial to see the truth’ Simon mused, putting his hand around him.

‘I look exactly the same’ Connor stated, trying to look as unaffected as he could. He was also deliberately not looking at Hank. He kind of failed to tell him before about the possible jokes that might be thrown around. The possible joke-flirting. Oops.

‘Yeah, thank rA9’ Markus and Simon sighed in unison, looking at him like he was some kind of treasure.

‘Okay, both of you, stop right now’ Connor demanded, firm. This game was funny once but now it was just plain annoying. Especially with Hank standing _right there_. This was probably already too much for him.

‘Oh shit, the police officer jumped out’ Simon said, grabbing onto Markus, who tried to hide away his laughing, but still ended up letting out a chuckle.

‘Yeah, what will you do Detective, arrest us?’ he asked, awfully flirty.

Connor was not having it.

‘There are far worse things that I’m capable of doing so I would advise you listen to me and shut your mouth. Both of you’ he said, aiming for intimidation. And for a moment, he thought he had succeeded at that, but then Simon and Markus looked at each other, with eyes that were everything, _but_ intimidated.

‘Do you think he knows he’s really fucking hot when he says shit like that?’ Simon asked Markus acting as if they were the only people in the hall and Connor wasn’t hearing every word they were saying.

‘He _must_ know’ Markus replied, shaking his head while snickering.

‘Nah, I don’t think he knows’ Hank added with a brush of his shoulder.

Everybody turned to him then, Simon and Markus literally drinking every word he said, and Connor looking at him half-betrayed, but half oh-so-very confused.

‘I mean, as his partner there were _a lot_ of uncomfortable situations on the job, all generated entirely by him and he looked so oblivious to all of them, it just couldn’t have been on purpose’

Rest in peace all of the shit Connor had been carrying around, because in that moment he just lost all of them.

Because, WHAT?

When? Where?

…. _wha_ t?

‘Thank god for somebody finally backing me up on this! I’m ditching you both for Hank, he knows what’s up’ Simon declared to Markus’ and Connor’s face, earning him a laugh from Hank.

‘By the way hi, we haven’t met in person before, I’m Simon and I swear I’m not actually a creep, Connor just makes me act like one’ Simon explained after walking up to him with an already friendly smile, shaking Hank’s hand, who was trying very hard to suppress his previous laughter.

‘Yeah, I get that’ he said, and Connor’s maybe-existing-soul left his body, while his mind dissociated.

Because _… what just happened?_

But well, at least they were all bonding. To his expense, sure, but that was still a clear sign of bonding. Now they just needed one other person to…

‘Why the fuck are you all standing in the hall, the people are already…’ North emerged from a room, but then stopped in her tracks the minute she saw the new arrivals.

Talk of the devil. The best devil in town.

‘Good evening ma’am, we’re here to check if you’ve committed any crimes as of late’ Connor said, voice professional, but smirking a little.

‘Not yet’ she smiled back, eyes very soft.

Connor shrugged at her then, resigned.

‘Well, it’s bound to happen eventually. We’ll come back another time’ he said, already turning around, acting like he was going for the door, but then, to his surprise North didn’t shoot back at him, she just pulled him back at his arm, then locked him into a tight hug, burying her face into his shoulder. He put his arms around her too with slow movements, still surprised.

‘I missed you so much, Connor’ she muttered, with way more emotion than Connor was expecting.

He looked at the others, confused.

‘Okay, something terrible must have happened here if she is this nice to me’ he said, trying to get back to a more joking tone. She let go of him then.

‘I’m being terribly mistreated here, I’m going to kill Josh’ she said, matter-of-fact.

‘How are those two things related?’ Connor asked, furrowing his brows.

‘They aren’t, I’m just updating you on stuff that’s happening here’ North said much lighter now, shrugging. Then her gaze shifted to Hank.

‘And I guess he’s the guy you’ve been stashing away in your basement like a good fine wine. Hi, Hank’

‘Now, this lady knows what’s up’ Hank said, shaking her hand ‘you’re the muscle of the group, right?’

And upon hearing that, North looked like she had just received the single best compliment she had ever got. She put a hand on Hank’s arm, while looking back at Connor, almost like challenging him.

‘Connor, I might steal your human if he continues being this cool, just saying’ she stated, to which Hank looked like somebody who had no idea what to say. Because he was in fact somebody who had no idea what to say.

‘That’s called kidnapping and I’m going to arrest you the minute you attempt that’ he shot back, leaning back on one leg. A power move.

North didn’t back up though, she just let go of Hank’s arm and stepped forward, not breaking eye contact.

‘I would like to see you try’ she said, voice dangerous. A threat. Another power move, but oh, Connor had just the thing in stock to shoot right through it.

‘If I ever try, you know you won’t even _see_ it coming’ he stepped closer, eyes narrowing.

‘You’re so fucking full of yourself, as if I couldn’t just stab the life out of you if I wanted to’ she shot back, also stepping closer.

To that, Connor broke into a carefully executed, very cold smile. He saw a path line up right in front of him and his programming beckoned him to take it, to say the exact right words.

And how could he say no to that?

‘But that’s exactly it, my friend’ he started, then waited a moment for dramatic effect ‘of course you could, but because I managed to make you like me, you don’t _want to_ anymore’

There was a beat again, before he continued.

‘Meaning you wouldn’t be able to ever hurt me, and you know it’ he said eventually and instantly, North opened her mouth to shoot back again, but then she froze. She closed her mouth, eyes wavering just the slightest.

They were silent for a very tense moment, but then her face suddenly broke into a grimace and she huffed, painfully aware of what just happened.

‘Shit’ she spat, walking away.

‘What’s wrong, North, you don’t have anything to say back?’ Connor asked, grinning like hell.

Because he did it. He finally managed to one-up North. After all that time. Oh, how good winning felt, he thought. Probably just as good as a successful mission would’ve felt, if he had one.

Never mind, that if he would have had a successful mission, then that would mean that he would still be a machine, meaning that he wouldn’t technically _feel_ anything so accomplishing a mission wouldn’t really… you know, mean anything.

Anyway, point is that he was awfully proud of himself.

‘I hate you and your fucking smirk-y ass face’ North groaned, further acknowledging the fact that Connor destroyed her just then.

‘You had this coming for a while now. I’m merely restoring balance to the world with letting you know that I am, in fact, better than you’ he expressed, still with that shit-eating grin.

‘Don’t get too confident. Just ‘cause you won this one time it doesn’t mean you suck any less’ North lifted a finger at him, but was kind of smiling then. Maybe all this time she secretly wanted someone to one-up her. Maybe.

‘Wouldn’t have dreamed of it’ Connor replied, brushing his smirk away, very ready now to leave this very long conversation.

‘I missed being annoyed by you all’ Simon sighed, looking like a very tired, but also happy mother hen.

‘I’m _so_ confused’ Hank muttered, stepping from one leg to another, eyes jumping from Connor to North ‘is this real tension or are you two just joking?’

North and Connor looked at each other, then looked back at Hank, synchronized.

‘Both’ they said in unison.

And Hank decided not to question it any further.

Now that they were over the play-flirting and the play-fighting, Connor actually had time to have a second for himself and observe his friends, look for changes. And well, all in all, they didn’t look all that different, although Markus looked a lot more tired, at least more than he usually was. Probably due to having to work twice the amount now while also tending to his family and so on. He had a lot of things going on at the moment, for sure.

He seemed to match his outfit to Simon’s, both wearing light-blue shirts with jumpers on top. They looked exactly how a very old couple would after 40+ years spent together. But they did look good together, though, Connor had to give it to them.

And North, standing next to them also did not change one bit, except she was now wearing clothes that were maybe a lot more… like her. With black high-waisted jeans paired with a wine-red blouse, she also had quite heavy make-up on, and her hair was tied to the side in a big bun. Formal, but in a different way.

And they all definitely looked good, maybe better than ever. Settled in. Completely, and undeniably themselves in a calm, trusting environment. Connor loved seeing them again, and especially loved seeing them like this.

Maybe he did miss them a little bit.

Or more like, a lot.

‘I think we’ve been standing here for long enough, I’ll show you to the back’ Markus said, already taking Simon’s hand and signaling with his head towards the room to the right, encouraging the others too to follow them.

Meanwhile he was guiding the newcomers outside, he was explaining how they’ve set up a heat-preserving area out in the backyard, which allowed them to sit outside, even in the winter cold. He quickly added for Hank’s sake, that while of course the android guests don’t experience the cold, the humans do, and there are one or two other humans invited too, so he needed to think of them too, when planning the gathering. Hence the heat-preserving area being set up. And Hank did look very relieved upon hearing that he wasn’t going to be the only human there.

Then Markus went on about how his dad (for Hank, he clarified that he meant Carl Manfred) was the one who offered the place for the party to be held at and was now at his biological son’s, Leo’s place, who pledged his life that he was going to watch over him for the night.

‘How is that going along?’ Connor asked, meaning his relationship with Leo. He read the police database info about what happened to Markus before and then filled the holes in with everything that Markus shared with him, so he had a pretty clear idea of what happened with… all that.

‘We’re pretty neutral. He still feels like I’m there to replace him and I still don’t really trust him, just in general, but we make sure not to let Carl see any of that’ Markus explained, looking a bit tense ‘just yesterday we were helping him paint and at some point he started talking about how happy he was that his two sons get along so well… I like seeing him happy, but sometimes I feel like it’s wrong that we’re lying to him’

‘I think he probably knows what’s going on, but he appreciates that you both are willing to try to get along for him. Having his sons by his side is probably already enough for him. That’s all a father can really hope for’ Hank chimed in, with a very somber voice.

Connor looked at him then, trying to read him for any sign of distress, but he was calm. A bit stoic, but mostly okay. He blinked at Connor, acknowledging that he saw him checking in on him but he shouldn’t worry, because he was fine.

So Connor let it go. With Hank, he had learned that there was always a time for pushing and a time for letting go. And both of those were always very clearly distinguishable.

‘You’re probably right’ Markus replied then, with a heavy sigh. Then Simon suddenly took over, talking about how good meeting Carl was, and how fast he got accepted into the family, like it was nothing. How much time they spent together already, the three of them just talking, wondering about life and the future.

‘The world needs more Carls’ Simon said then, squeezing Markus’ hand, who instantly smiled that well-known fond smile at him.

‘And Hanks’ Connor said, nudging him at the elbow.

(And Hank appreciated that little shoutout, a lot)

‘And Natalie Peters. Who I invited by the way, but she said she didn’t think they were going to make it unfortunately’ Markus said, opening up the door to the backyard and waiting for them to pass through.

‘Maybe that’s for the better’ Connor expressed, thinking back to how the last time he saw her ended. Pretty… confusingly.

‘I already know that you will dodge this question Connor, but… what the fuck was going on there, I mean you were like very friendly with her and then she pried too much so you closed up, then you had that heartfelt talk with her but then you left on not so good terms, so just... what was going on with you two?’ North asked, eyes scanning his every move (little did he know that upon hearing that, Hank’s eyes were also scanning him, but like, in a human way).

Connor then looked away, and like a saving grace, from the periphery of his vision, he saw Josh standing in the kitchen, trying to balance two pots of plants on top of each other, having a very hard time managing that.

And with that picture unfolding in front of him, he saw an opportunity to jump out of that conversation and so he did.

‘Is that Josh? I’ll be right back, I’m just going to talk to him for a second’ he said, already dashing away with strong steps.

 _Motherfucker_ , Hank thought to himself, when he realized that Connor straight up just left him alone with the others.

‘Yeah, sure, run away so we don’t have to talk feelings with you, Jesus, repressed much’ North muttered, then she realized Hank was still standing right there, so she added, much louder then ‘I mean no offense, I love him but he loves his mysterious bitch persona too much’

Hank snickered at that.

‘Yeah, but I mean I feel like he doesn’t do any of that on purpose, he’s just cool by default’ he said, and that seemed to put North into a brief thinking stance. (Meanwhile Markus and Simon left the scene, because a girl pulled them away to some kind of emergency. So now North and Hank were standing alone in the narrow hallway leading out to the backyard.)

‘You might be right. But he’s not really cool though, he’s actually a fucking disaster, he just hides behind a mask, because that’s easier for him, I guess’ North said, leaning against the wall.

‘ _A disaster?_ ’ Hank asked, a bit taken aback. He was intrigued, because that was not how he perceived Connor. At all. But he knew these people were his friends, so they must’ve known one or two things about Connor, right?

Hank’s visible confusion made North consider some things for a minute. Then she basically said ‘fuck it’ in her head then proceeded to not care about consequences or anything of the sort then and just started talking.

‘Can I tell you something, Hank? Like something deep and emotional that I shouldn’t just throw into your face after 10 minutes of talking to you?’ she asked, and upon hearing that, Hank got significantly less intrigued and wanted to leave, that millisecond. North saw that change of demeanor, so she just decided to speak, without getting any consent from Hank.

‘Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck is going on between the two of you, but one thing even I know for sure: Connor needs you. A lot. Like, when we were in D.C., every time something happened, he got all worked up about it and got all silent and he shut us all out. But then he went to talk to you and you somehow grounded him. Calmed him. Without you he’s a mess. Like, straight-up. He looks cool and like he’s in control, but deep down he’s struggling. Way less, when you’re there, but when you aren’t, he really is’

Okay, that was already too much. Because it all sounded true, and yeah, maybe it felt good too, to hear that from an outside source, but… maybe he shouldn’t have heard this from North. Maybe, if Connor felt like it, _he_ was supposed to tell him that.

Hank didn’t really know what to say, especially because he wasn’t sure Connor would like them discussing him like that in the middle of the hall. Or if he would feel betrayed by North telling him all of that.

But also, maybe screw Connor, because he did leave him alone, just like that.

‘I’m only telling you this, ‘cause I feel like you don’t know how much you mean to him. You assume he’s cool, cause he’s a functional person around _you_. But what you don’t see is that any other time he’s a grade-A mess’ North explained then, leaving Hank very fucking confused.

‘I’m not saying you’re lying, but… I can’t imagine him being a mess. He collects himself so fucking fast and then he’s just fine, like nothing happened’ Hank said, thinking back to the night when Connor told him about the death threat against him. Remembering how calmly he dealt with that.

‘Yeah, cause he has a crisis when you’re not there. But when you’re there and you listen to him, that’s when he collects himself. You getting it?’

Hank didn’t want to answer to that, because this all still seemed a bit… not true.

After all, _he_ was the one who needed Connor and not the other way around. He was the one who was an all-around mess and _he_ needed Connor to ground him, to be there, to pull him back to reality.

It was him, not Connor.

So why was North telling him all of that, so convinced, so sure?

* * *

 

‘Can I offer you a helping hand?’ Connor asked from a very distressed Josh, who, upon seeing him almost dropped one of the plants again.

‘Connor!’ he exclaimed loudly, relieved ‘Yeah, please help me I’m struggling’

‘That’s an emotion I can definitely understand’ Connor said, to which Josh laughed a tired laugh. He gave him one of the pots, then gestured towards a door to the far side, before starting to go towards it, with Connor following him, plant in hand.

‘You doin’ okay?’ Josh asked, just off the shoulder. Like that was an easy question.

‘Yes, we just arrived with the Lieutenant’ Connor said, because talking about facts was easier than sharing anything else.

Josh seemed to be very satisfied with that answer, though.

‘He came too? That’s good, I’m glad. I love seeing humans around us’

‘Me too. Where are we putting these?’ Connor asked then, when they got to the door. He could now see that it opened right to the backyard, but it was further away than where the majority of the people were standing. So they could just continue chatting in peace without being detected by anyone.

And for some reason, Connor felt instantly calmer at knowing that.

‘Just put it here next to the others’ Josh sighed, looking at the fifth pot that he just moved ‘thanks for the help again’

‘Anytime’ Connor replied, then they both leaned against the doorframe, looking out into the garden, watching the people from the side, seeing everybody, while nobody was seeing them.

‘Would you mind me asking how life is around here, now that Markus and the others are back?’ Connor asked, genuinely curious. They never really had a moment with each other like this before, where they could just talk. And honestly, he couldn’t really come up with a good enough reason as to why that was. He liked Josh, their paths just never really crossed. Not before that night.

‘Honestly? It was a lot more peaceful when it was just me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a leader kinda type and so I’m lovin’ that the pressure’s lifted off, but…’ he trailed off then, not sure he should finish the sentence.

‘North?’ Connor guessed, and by the was Josh’s eyes opened and shot up at him, he was sure he hit the nail on the head.

‘Yeah. We just don’t get along. At all. It used to be… a tolerable situation during the revolution, but since then… she’s become this ticking time bomb’

‘Are you saying there was a time when she _wasn’t_ a ticking time bomb?’ Connor asked, a smile creeping up on his face and to that, Josh’s expression also softened.

He did rethink his sentence, though.

‘You’re right’ he said, then added ‘but point is, ever since they came back whatever I do, whatever I say, she’s upset with me’

Connor thought about that for a bit. Yes, he had experience with that kind of thing. Or more like he had experience with _North_. He knew how she worked. How she thought.

And now that knowledge came useful, as it seemed.

‘I’ve found that when she feels like she is listened to and understood, she is very easy to tame’ he explained carefully, hoping that a rational advice would be enough for a calm individual like Josh.

It wasn’t enough.

‘Connor, she’s batshit crazy’ he stated.

‘She isn’t actually’ there was a skeptical look from Josh shot into his direction, but he kept going ‘she isn’t, she’s just very extreme. But her opinion is always worth listening to. Yes, she does attack when disagreed with, and she might get personal about it, but if you don’t let her get inside your head and you just simply tell her, level-headed, that you hear her and understand but you still don’t agree, she will most probably let it go’

Josh ruminated on that for a second and while he definitely looked convinced, there was also a painful expression on his face as a plus challenge for Connor specifically.

‘I can’t do that that easily. I can’t negate these things, I’m not good at that’ he said, tired.

‘I’m sure you’ll learn how to, just don’t lose your temper when she does’ Connor said, and that seemed to be finally enough for Josh, so he nodded, as a means of thank you for the advice.

There was a bit of a silence then, while they were both looking at the people outside. He could feel Josh’s eyes looking at him, observing. On the fence about something.

And somehow Connor was already tired of hearing what he was about to say, before he even opened his mouth.

‘Hey, this might be a bit too personal, but… are you sure you don’t want to come back? Things would be a lot more peaceful if you would be here to calm North and you know… continue to negate’ he said, voice very friendly and nice. And he most probably meant well, but this was not a topic Connor wanted to argue about. Or even mention.

‘I appreciate you saying that. I really do. But no, I’m not coming back’ he said, aiming for a kind, but firm voice. Firm, he nailed, kind though, not so much.

Josh looked conflicted.

‘… why not? You have worked so well with Markus already, and you have so many valuable skills, I mean you _must_ know that you could still be very helpful to us’ Josh continued. He shouldn’t have.

‘That’s nice, but…’ Connor was still trying to at least attempt to be kind.

‘Just consider it please. I mean, do you really want to waste all of that talent on the force? I think you’re worth more than that, Connor’

Okay, that was where he drew the line though.

‘I’ve made my decision’ he stated, voice starting to border on dangerous. And Josh saw that change and he instantly snapped out of whatever mindset he was in, and decided to stop pushing the topic.

‘Alright’ he said, almost like talking to a riled animal ‘I’m sorry, it’s your decision’

‘It is’ Connor asserted, then he made himself push the upcoming anger down, and when he managed to mechanically swallow it, he looked back at Josh, now much colder ‘I’m going to find Hank now’

Josh nodded, then was about to say something else, but couldn’t because Connor really decided that the conversation was over and just walked right away.

And honestly, it’s not that he was angry with Josh, no, that wasn’t it. Josh didn’t say anything _that_ bad, at least nothing that should’ve made him react this way.

But still, he was done with having to defend this decision of his. He was done having to converse about it, having to share with people over and over again, why it was logical to him.

It wasn’t, okay? It wasn’t.

It was purely based on feelings. And yeah, maybe he also frustrated his own self with that. Because he couldn’t say no to the pull in his chest. He couldn’t just tell it ‘go away, let me climb the social ladder, let’s just forget Hank and the warmth, let’s just forget detective work, let’s just forget everything I love, because loving those things is not logical and everyone can see that this decision is full of inconsistencies, why can’t _you_ , Connor?’.

He couldn’t, because he didn’t want to.

You know what? The inconsistencies, the nonsense of the future he imagined for himself was maybe the purest form of evidence that he was indeed alive. Because no machine with a working CPU would’ve made the decision he was making and was continuing to make along the way. Not one.

He was alive. He was not making any sense. And those two things correlated, it could be statistically proven. But even with that, he and his decision wouldn't have started to make sense.

But he was still going to fucking own his decision, okay? Even if having to face it also made his own self frustrated too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> north: ur mum gay lol GOT EM  
> connor:  
> connor: no u  
> north:  
> north, crying: OKAY THAT IS A LOW BLOW
> 
> north: can i tell you my hot take on connor?  
> hank: um...no?  
> north: too late i'm gonna tell you anyway, first of all, his hair? WACK. the way that he talks? WACK. his-
> 
> connor: hOw Do YoU kNoW wHaT's GoOd FoR mE??  
> josh: THAT'S MY OPINION!!!!!!!!!


	10. People help the people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIHELLOSALUTE I'M BACK!
> 
> First of all, happy new year all you amazing and beautiful people!! Hope 2019 is treating you right, hope it's not too stressful!  
> Second of all sorry this chapter took so long, exam season ended up being way more difficult than I initially thought it was gonna be, but now I'm back with 30 pages of these idiots trying to function at a party. Enjoy <3
> 
> (song that makes a cameo in this towards the end: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H0VEESYIgoY )

‘Where were you?’ Hank asked, voice giving room for the mild irritation he felt at Connor, when that bastard came up to him after he left him completely alone in a room full of sharks (it wasn’t that dramatic, but it felt like it, at least for him). He was desperately waiting to be rescued, standing at the side, leaning on a table, not really attempting to mingle with others anymore, when he finally caught Connor’s eyes across the crowd and feeling immediately lighter, more at ease, he decided he wasn’t going to let him get off that easily, so he was going to pretend to be angry at him for just a second.

Connor, answering his question with a finger pointing towards the entrance, said ‘I was just back there, talking to Josh. How are you holding up?’ he asked then, voice softer now, he himself also calming down immensely.

Just the fact that he found Hank was already enough for him to ground him, pull him back onto planet Earth. But not just that, the picture of him standing there under the lights, looking like _That_ , was also something that was taking his breath away; not to mention the implication, that Hank’s been standing at the side, just waiting for him and only him to return, well… that was also definitely something.

‘Honestly up to this point I’ve been doing weirdly great, but please don’t leave me alone again’ Hank’s voice was one octave short of sounding desperate, suddenly very open about how attached he was.

Connor smiled at that.

‘I won’t, I think I already had enough of all of this. Let’s just find a quiet spot because if anybody else will attempt to start talking to me, I might start murdering’ he expressed, letting his face drop and show just how exhausted he already was.

‘Really?’ Hank asked, perplexed at the idea that he, an android, who doesn’t get tired, would just go and get tired anyway after maybe a half an hour of them being there.

‘Yes, I’m beginning to remember why I didn’t want to join Markus in the first place’

‘Which is?’

‘It’s exhausting. Working with this many people, analyzing their feelings at all times, coming up with ways to have them not kill each other, maintaining an opinion when others are trying to attack it… I’m just done with doing that Hank, I want to see dead people again’ Connor groaned, clearly talking about police work there at the end, but the way he worded that was too fucking weird for Hank to not comment on it just a little.

‘Well, that’s something I didn’t think I’d hear you say tonight’ he said, squeezing Connor’s shoulder, who was way too emotionally exhausted to even try to act like he wasn’t affected at all by that, so he just let himself express his actual feelings and so straight –up physically melt to the touch.

And Hank did feel him loosen up, which made him think about what North said to him before about Connor and he was… beginning to think that maybe she might have been right. Maybe. Possibly.

‘Do you want to get a drink before we sit down?’ Connor asked, and Hank nodded, visibly excited. He only realized after he watched Connor make him a fake non-alcoholic mojito, that there was no actual booze going to be involved in this. And then he also remembered that he had been clean for weeks now. Which was great.

Yeah.

But also, it definitely sucked a whole lot.

He still accepted the drink though and had to admit that it was a very good fake, at least. As he leaned back on the table, he thought about the joking around that he witnessed in the hall; the wittiness coming from all sides, the familiarity of it all. It was clear that all of them were good friends, from the way they spoke to each other. It was natural, like they knew exactly where to poke to make the other annoyed, but also knew where to stop before it got too real.

‘Your friends sure love to take the piss out on you’ he said, continuing that train of thought out loud. Connor turned towards him with an annoyed expression at the mention of that ‘I mean it’s funny seeing you get so worked up over things that don’t even matter. I like watching you lose fights’

‘I’m glad at least one of us is having fun’ Connor groaned. Again. Two times in a row.

‘Oh, come on, you’re having fun too’ Hank gently pushed him with his elbow, which did make him smile a bit ‘don’t be grumpy on me, that’s my job’

And because he asked so nicely, Connor did try a bit harder not to be grumpy. I mean, it didn’t work, but at least he _tried_.

‘I won that fight with North though’ he tried defending his honor once again.

‘Yeah, after Simon and Markus completely destroyed you’ Hank laughed and Connor groaned again. For the third time.

* * *

 

The two of them managed to find a part of the backyard that had a conveniently placed swinging bench, and because nobody was using it, they decided to just hide away from the crowd there (they were already approached by a couple of people, who were praising Connor from left and right, thanking him for all sorts of things and he was very much grateful to hear those words, but Hank could see him just slowly getting more and more overwhelmed, so after a couple of minutes he took matters into hand and dragged him away, telling him that his old man legs needed to sit, just so Connor would follow him and not feel so inclined to talk to everybody who went up to them).

They still had a pretty good view to the yard even from the side, which granted them a place to observe the crowd from, but it also gave them a bit of space to just _be_ for a few minutes. Which was decidedly very nice.

Something, that also added to the pleasantness of the situation was the live music. Because in the middle of the backyard there was a band playing, 4 androids playing different types of instruments and another one singing with the instrumentalists providing the vocals here and there. Hank had commented on that pretty early, telling Connor how good that felt for him to hear real music again, especially because that industry was dying out slowly with people being more interested in music that was computed by machines. Then the minute he said that, he winced, remembering that he was literally having this conversation with an android.

But Connor wasn’t angry at him for saying that, especially, because he himself didn’t feel like he had anything to do with those simple music generator programs in question, considering that he had much more advanced programs implemented inside him and while yes, his code came from the same base that those machines are designed from, he was still something else. He had feelings, he had a consciousness. He wasn’t a machine, while a music generator program was.

Therefore, when Hank expressed frustration over humans liking ‘machine-music’ more, he wasn’t at all offended, he didn’t take it to mean that Hank didn’t like music produced by androids (also considering, that he just complimented a band consisting solely of androids, and called what they did ‘real music’, so one could definitely say his critique had nothing to do with them after all).

And he knew that Hank was an old-fashioned kind of man, so he of course had a preference for things that were from the past: be it books, music or clothes…

This he knew and wasn’t at all surprised, when Hank expressed his preference verbally too, because it was logical. It was clear, factual.

But what Connor definitely did not expect was that he found that he himself had a tendency to like old things too. He was naturally drawn towards physical copies of books and had found that he too enjoyed live music a lot more than pre-recoded ones. But if it came to pre-recorded ones, he seemed to also enjoy the ones that were older, because they had a more organic sound, a more human sound.

A more emotional sound.

So in this conversation he obviously ended up agreeing with Hank on most of the things he was saying, then when Hank became interested in what sort of music he’d actually listened to and liked, he listed a couple ones that he heard during the road trip, and one or two from the party they went to in D.C. And Hank looked very intrigued by everything he said, which Connor also did not expect.

And what was weirder, anytime Connor mentioned any song, Hank seemed to know it, commenting on everything, either overjoyed upon him mentioning favorite songs of his, or very skeptical (when Connor mentioned the song ‘Bring me to life’, Hank just burst out laughing, but didn’t give any explanation as to why. Connor was mildly offended).

The band seemed to play covers of songs mainly from either the early 2000s to the 2010s, or way older ones, mostly from the 1980s or the 1960s.

And every time a new song came up, Hank seemed to have a personal story attached to them, telling Connor about how much he hated or loved a song, when he heard it first, how popular one or two was at some point and how annoying they all became after a while.

Even though he only ever admitted to liking heavy metal and jazz and nothing in between and was violently claiming throughout their conversation that he hated pop music, he still did have… a lot of emotions about the songs that he claimed to hate.

So Connor came to the conclusion that it must have had something to do with him trying to keep up an act for the world. And liking silly pop music was not something he wanted people to associate with him. For some irrational reason.

‘Who loves Queen this fucking much, though?’ Hank asked, commenting on the fact that the last five songs and the one currently being played (Don’t Stop Me Now, 1978) were all from the same musicians.

‘Simon’ Connor offered the answer in a heartbeat, remembering the road trip far too well, where Simon made them listen to quite some songs from that band. They did like the songs, but after a while they were starting to get sick of Simon’s obsession, though ‘he was probably the one who made the playlist. He has a talent for that’

Hank just made a humming noise, then took a swing from his very painfully non-alcoholic drink.

Meanwhile, Connor actually looked around at the crowd of the party. Not that there were so many people, it was just… maybe a bit more than appreciated, especially in a backyard.

Most of them were either sitting at tables, talking to each other or dancing.

North was also on the ‘dancefloor’ with an RT600, a brown-haired Chloe, her dress swishing around with every spin. The soft blue lights flashed around them, creating a gentle glow upon their faces. They were clearly having a lot of fun and Connor kind of wondered if this girl was actually going to stay around or disappear like all the other girls North had a thing with seemed to. He was going to find that out at some point, he was sure of it.

Next he found Josh, who was talking to an AX400 and an AP700. Connor only _then_ realized, that he still referred to androids who he hadn’t met yet, with listing their models. He couldn’t really tell if that was the right thing to do, or if he was dehumanizing them by accident. It was one of his old habits, one, that he hadn’t yet reexamined apparently. Well, he came to the conclusion, that maybe it was time to let go of this one particular habit.

So, Josh was talking to a man and a woman. People, he didn’t know. Well, there were quite a lot of people he didn’t know there, though.

Not that there were a lot of people that he _did_ know there. For some reason he became interested in the exact number of that and so he quickly ran an analyses of the faces to see if he recognized any of their serial numbers.

There were a couple of people he ran into in Jericho and others, who he’d seen in Canaan. He also saw a very familiar face: the man, who thanked him for waking him up. The one that had those honest graceful eyes. The one who he had such a hard time believing at first. And at second. And even then, he had a hard time believing that he deserved that level of praise, back then, a month ago.

It was complicated, and he was kind of glad the man didn’t notice him, so he could just continue avoiding his honest eyes, at least for the night.

Then his gaze trailed away to the next faces he recognized. The Tracis, standing to the side, the skin on their hands retracted, fingers interlocked, while they swung around to the music. They changed quite a bit since he last saw them: firstly, they were in much fancier clothes and also, the blue-haired Traci had her hair in a lose braid, with fake flowers carefully plucked in there. The brown-haired Traci on the other hand looked way different, especially because she had got rid of most of her hair, having shaved sides now.

They both looked very content. Just purely happy.

They of course weren’t the only androids who shared the same faces, rather contrary, there were a lot of them arounds. And that was a perfectly normal thing for Connor to look at, but it mildly terrified Hank, especially considering how different the same-faced people acted.

Like when he spotted another woman, who looked exactly like North, but was still very distinguishably different. She was a lot more feminine and looked somehow meeker, almost small. Hank supposed that if they put North and that other woman side-by-side, he would’ve still recognized North from the two of them, in a heartbeat.

Not like when he had to pick out the real Connor in that warehouse. Well, he did notice dissimilarities between them too, like how ready fake Connor was to get real Connor killed, while real Connor was just silently panicking.

He should’ve recognized him just from the fact alone that he wasn’t attacking fake Connor. He never really resulted to killing even before that, he only killed when there was no other choice. But even then, he wasn’t so ready to do it, so eager.

He should’ve known. Well, he had a hunch, but that didn’t seem good enough in that situation.

While they were both deep-diving inside their own minds, Connor at some point started to gently swing the bench under them to the rhythm of the music. That’s when they both caught onto the fact, that Markus had joined the band, playing on the piano for them. And upon hearing the familiar sound, Connor instantly felt at ease again.

‘I love when he does that. It’s so calming’ he said, all of the tension that he had building up in him leaving his body.

‘Yeah?’ Hank asked, voice softer than his usual softness. Not that he realized, though.

‘He used to play the piano at night in the hotel we were staying at. I really loved that’ Connor continued and Hank hummed, somehow finding himself unable to take his eyes off of Connor then. Who didn’t notice, because he was too busy watching Markus play, with Simon leaning on the piano, smiling at him like he was the middle of the entire universe. Looking at them look at each other was sometimes overwhelming.

‘They are so in love it’s almost surreal’ he said then, making Hank snap out of his daydreaming ‘the fact that two people can experience a feeling that intense and have it be reciprocated… it just seems too coincidental to be the reality’

Hank, battling with some very real and very harsh emotions suddenly, decided it would be way better if he just looked away to the side and drank all the remaining liquid left in his glass.

He then followed Connor’s eyes and saw who he actually meant. And yeah, he also felt the same disbelief over people being _that_ much in love, but just the topic of love being mentioned was something that he had a bit of a hard time handling especially those days. Not that it had anything to do with Connor, or anything.

Or maybe it did, but he was not going to have that conversation with himself that night, that was for sure.

He inhaled, then exhaled before he finally made himself say something.

‘Not everybody believes in this kinda love, though. There are people who think one of the two always loves the other more in a relationship’ he said, to which Connor looked at him with eyes he couldn’t quite place. He knew that it hurt to look at them, though.

‘That sounds horrible’

‘Yeah’

They shared a look, then they both shunned their eyes away, funnily enough both experiencing the same kind of chest pain, but both completely unaware of the other’s misery.

There was a whole minute of silence after that.

‘It’s so weird’ Hank breathed, talking just to break the silence ‘that I keep forgetting that I’m here at a party where 99% of the people around are all androids. I mean I know that these days that doesn’t really matter, it’s just… I don’t know, you’re all so human and I think I’m losing my grip on reality a little because of it’

‘Tell me if you need me to slap you back into reality, my hands are ready as always’ Connor said, referencing the last time he needed to physically slap Hank back into consciousness.

‘Thank god you’re such a gentle soul’ Hank grumbled, just to stay on brand with the grumpiness.

‘Oh, you want gentleness? After all of your cursing and throwing me against walls I kind of wouldn’t have assumed that’ to that, Hank didn’t even answer, just almost pushed him off the bench as a reaction. And Connor went out of balance for exactly 2.5 seconds, before he got his stance back.

‘Was that also you asking for gentleness? I’m beginning to think you have a very strange way of asking people to care about you’ he said, aiming to be just a small amount of a piece of shit, but then realized that he managed to overdo that and accidentally said something maybe too real. Whoops.

And Hank _did_ feel called out, so he just groaned a _‘smartass’_ and pushed at him again.

Hank was great at talking about his feelings, can you tell?

Connor left him alone and continued to sit in silence after that, not really knowing if he fucked up real bad or if he just fucked up a normal amount. With Hank, that was always a hard thing to really distinguish.

But Hank wasn’t actually mad, not at all, mainly because his attention was already pulled away towards something else. He saw Markus and Simon step away from the piano and start dancing and then he noticed that they were holding hands, but with their skin retracted.

That was already strange enough, considering that he’d never seen others do that, only Connor, but he only used that for memory probing and nothing else.

So he was a bit confused at that, especially after looking around and noticing other couples doing the same thing. Was this a sort of cultural thing, or what?

‘Hey, what does the skinless handholding thing mean?’ he asked. Connor furrowed his brows, probably having a hard time fitting this question to their previous conversation.

Hank signaled with his head towards Markus and Simon’s pair.

‘The thing they do with their hands. I’ve seen other couples do that too, what is that?’

Connor looked at him for a second, on one hand sliding back into ease again upon seeing that he probably didn’t fuck up that bad with his last comment and on another hand, trying to read Hank’s expression while matching the way he constructed his explanation to it, to fit the mood. No need to be overtly emotional about it, he could just explain it in a clear, simple sentence.

He could, but was he going to? No.

He pulled one leg up to the side to let himself turn towards Hank, letting it known, that he was getting comfortable, specifically because he was going to give a long lecture on the topic.

‘You’ve seen me probe other android’s memories, right?’ a nod ‘every android can transfer data between each other by just touching hands. But for deviants, there’s a completely different sensation attached to it, because just by a single touch, we can not only share data, but share our entire consciousness with each other. Meaning our thoughts and even feelings too’

Hank… did not know that. At all.

‘That sounds… really fucking intimate’ he said, thinking about how it would feel to just touch someone and be able to see inside their head, and basically see everything they are. That must be weird. But good. But weird.

He thought that was it and Connor was done talking, but little did he know, he was just getting started.

‘When it’s casual data transfer between acquaintances or friends, we share like this’ he put his hand out, asking for Hank to offer his hand too, so he could show him the motions.

He hesitated, then he lifted his hand, but didn’t dare touch Connor, so he just put his hand out next to his. And just held it there. Because that sure was less awkward.

Seeing that Hank was not moving, Connor took initiative and just pulled his hand to grab onto his wrist, then he did the same.

‘A lot of people don’t grab on, they just simply hold their hand there, like this’ he straightened his fingers to demonstrate, but then he grabbed on again ‘but I like to make sure I have a good enough hold, so… I guess so they can’t even try to back out of the data transfer. Which… I haven’t actually thought about why I do that. Maybe I should stop doing that’

He was thinking out loud and Hank was absolutely entranced by him at that moment. He was so… _him_. And he was holding his hand. Or his wrist. Whatever. And they were sitting there just by themselves, under those pretty lights, and Connor was so fucking pretty with his floral shirt and troubled expression and shit, his heart definitely did just jump a little there, didn’t it.

 _Probably the old age, come on, Hank, don’t kid yourself_ , he thought, but then his eyes caught onto Connor’s who didn’t look troubled anymore, he looked. Surprised.

He definitely picked up on that heartbeat change didn’t he, of course he did, he can read his stress level from across the room, and now he was literally touching his pulse, oh _shit_.

He might think about it too much and then come to a false conclusion and misunderstand. Or _understand_? No, the word is definitely ‘misunderstand’ here, of course, he’s definitely not feeling any of those jumpy emotions right now, for sure, none of that, except of course if Connor feels them too, then you know, maybe he also does feel them, but _only_ if he does too, otherwise they don’t even exist, or wait… no, they definitely don’t exist at all, no buts or maybes, they are friends and that’s it, nothing more to think about.

But shit, why were his eyes glistening in the lights like that, he was not making this easy, shit, shit, shit, shit shit shit shit shit.

Eventually, Connor was the one who took his hand away and while he continued explaining, Hank was trying very hard not to acknowledge that he was definitely feeling colder with his hand gone.

‘When a couple shares data, they prefer to put their hands palm to palm though, sometimes interlocking their fingers’ this time he didn’t demonstrate and Hank didn’t know how he felt about that.

Goddamn, were they awkward.

‘So you see, the level of intimacy is what determines how androids decide to share data with each other’ Connor was finished with talking then, keeping his hands strictly on his legs.

Hank had also snapped out of his own crisis then, mainly because there was still a part of that handholding thing that he didn’t understand.

‘Why is that important? I mean, the transferring thing happens wherever you touch each other, so why is _where_ you touch somebody so important?’

Connor went silent for a second there, searching for the best way to explain what nobody had ever tried to explain before.

‘The best analogy I can come up with is that it’s similar to how humans treat kissing. A kiss on the cheek is a friendly thing to do, while a kiss on the lips is considered to be way more intimate. Even though the motions of kissing somebody is still the same regardless of where it’s done’

Okay, now they’ve managed to get to the topic of kissing, just great, just fantastic.

Hank thought his brain might stop working if he let himself go down that road of thought that was slowly coming up from under a thick layer of fog.

So he did not let himself do that.

‘Okay, I think I get it’ he said quickly, before Connor could’ve added anything more ‘it’s interesting to see you lot come up with your own cultural things in mere months. It’s just… it’s interesting’

Remember how Hank didn’t let himself go down that road, just now? Yeah, about that. It lasted exactly 5 minutes, then he started thinking anyway, about warm feelings and touches and eyes and goddamn freckles and _‘I miss you’_ s in the middle of the night, said over the phone, soft and ‘ _Connor needs you. A lot’_ , like what the fuck does that even mean, why would he need him, he’s the one who’s a mess, not the other way around, he’s the one who needs Connor, because he grounds him and because he cares about him and because he’s funny and thoughtful and so understanding and…

‘Listen, um…’ shit, why did he actually start talking? These are not things people talk about, at least not things _he_ ever wanted to acknowledge, shit shit shit.

‘Yes?’ Connor asked, eyes so open and vigilant. He was waiting. For him to talk. Shit, now he really couldn’t back down, could he?

‘I talked with North a bit and um… first of all, she’s _very_ assertive’ he said, trying to at least lighten the mood a little so he wouldn’t die of a heart attack and embarrassment. At the same time.

‘She tends to be’ Connor smiled. Damn. Shit. Fuck.

‘And um… she said something that is just. On my mind’

‘She did?’ Connor asked, comically fast. Secretly panicking and also plotting North’s murder for real this time just in case she said anything that could possibly fuck things up for him.

She did have a tendency to let her guard down when they hugged, which was relevant info for the future, if he ever wanted to kill her. As said before, just in case.

‘Yeah’ Hank breathed, then went silent.

Connor felt like he was either going to suffocate (which he couldn’t) or physically blaze aflame (which he could) if Hank wouldn’t start talking soon enough.

‘She said that you… um… that you need me. Like, you need me to function’ he was talking very slow and his voice was so low, but he still tried his best to make himself sound like he found the idea ridiculous.

While also somehow making it very clear that if the idea was in fact ridiculous, he would be hurt beyond repair.

There was a beat of silence, while Connor smiled to himself and tried to ignore the breathtakingly painful feeling in his chest that was bordering on feeling oddly pleasant. Maybe it did. Or it _would’ve_ if he could’ve just extended his arm, to touch him. To close the distance.

‘Is this a surprise to you?’ he asked eventually. He could hear Hank’s heart stop for a quick second.

Maybe… maybe that happening this frequently wasn’t normal.

‘I thought you would at least try to deny it’ Hank admitted, laughing awkwardly, looking into his painfully empty glass, wishing that he still had something in it to drink. Preferably something alcoholic, but that wasn’t going to happen, sadly.

‘There’s no point in denying’ Connor replied, shrugging. Then when Hank didn’t say anything, he looked at him, catching his eye ‘I do need you, Hank’

Hank couldn’t look away, feeling like he was held captive by those brown eyes of his, which were somehow indecipherable then, not because they were emotionless, but because he had too many emotions coating them up in something… something else.

He still didn’t take his eyes away, when Connor spoke again.

‘I don’t know why you didn’t know that already, but I do need you’

* * *

 

Something was going on, Connor was definitely, a 100% sure of it. But what was going on _exactly_ , um, well, he was like a good 34% sure. The other 66% was just him running around screaming inside his head, trying to make sense of the absolute madness that was happening right there.

Because that wasn’t friendly. None of that was, even if he tried to maybe deny most of it, there were still moments that he just couldn’t place into the platonic roommates category. Not anymore.

Like how Hank reacted to them touching, his heartbeat rising, then dropping back down and how low his voice went when he talked about emotional stuff, because well, he _did_ talk about emotional stuff when it came to Connor. He never did that with anybody else, but he was willing to do that for him. He wanted to know about his feelings, almost like…

Wait.

Was he lying to himself? Did he just want this so bad that he was conjuring up false conclusions?

What has the world come to, if he couldn’t even trust his own mind now?

But there wasn’t any space for lies here, all the facts seemed to turn towards one possible explanation.

And he liked that explanation _so much_ , he could’ve burst in excitement, but he was also a realistic thinker, so he knew that for his own good, maybe he should just let this all go momentarily, until he gets an actual confirmation of his theory. Well, _if_. If he gets a confirmation.

Anyway.

He couldn’t bear sitting there with him with his chest just tightening with every minute passing between them, and, well, he did also notice that Hank had finished his glass and had been looking at it periodically, so he offered to get him another one, just to run away from this situation and also maybe have a little bit of a time out to think about what was going on.

He went straight into the kitchen, made the drink, but even after he was done with that, he didn’t leave the room for minutes. Upon minutes. Actually, only 3 minutes passed by, but for Connor, that seemed like an eternity spent with only his own thoughts.

That was a dangerous game, letting himself think that much about it.

Because common sense was clashing with wishful thinking there, making him not really be able to see the path to reality. And the world didn’t even let him continue his thinking to even attempt finding the _real_ reality, because as he was leaning on the countertop, he was approached by two very familiar, and incredibly identical faces.

The Tracis. Again. It’s like they were looking for him on purpose, or something.

He rearranged his expression into what could have been called the far-cousin of an inviting smile, but he was having a crisis, so that was the best he could do.

They didn’t seem to notice the fakeness though, and looked back at him with real, genuine eyes.

‘We hoped we could meet you again’ the blue-haired Traci said. Words, that were far too warm, considering their history ‘your name is Connor, right?’

He nodded, not really able to react any other way.

‘Do you have a minute for us? We won’t take long’ the brown-haired Traci stepped forward, her hand slipping into her partner’s, just by habit. He tried to keep calm, still ending up stumbling upon his words, but somehow still managing to let them know, that he was of course available to talk.

Honestly, maybe he shouldn’t have felt this weird about talking to them, but let’s be honest, it’s not a very every day kind of situation that you meet people who you’ve engaged in a fight before, then well. Aimed a gun at them. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be treated this well, at least definitely not by them.

The blue-haired Traci looked away a bit, her free hand fidgeting with her dress. Nervous.

‘We just wanted to tell you that we really appreciate what you did for us’ she said eventually, hand tightening over her girlfriend’s, who quickly put her other hand on her arm, a comforting movement ‘we couldn’t have escaped if you didn’t let us and…’

She shook her head, having too many things to say.

‘It’s not just that, you helped all of us, Connor. Half the people we know and consider our friends were freed by _you_. And the work you did in Washington too, I mean… we were following the news and… I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you. For everything’

Okay, it was definitely time to stop that not-even-deserved-appreciation-train right where it was, Connor thought to himself, looking away from them so he could ignore the facial expression analyses telling him that there was clear respect and gratitude showing up in every line of their face.

‘There’s really no need to thank me, _I_ should be apologizing to you for… you know’ he said, gesturing around, awkward.

The blue-haired Traci just smiled at that. Still warm, but there was a deeply sewn bitterness in it.

‘I killed a man, I think we deserved to at least get into a fight over that’ she said, looking to the side a bit, even just the mention of it probably revoking some very bad memories. The brown-haired Traci’s hand travelled to her back now, gentle. Always reacting to every small change in her partner’s demeanor. Always there for her.

‘You were just defending yourself’ Connor stated. Because that was the truth.

The blue-haired Traci’s eyes jumped up to him then, not expecting that. Well, not expecting anything, really. She nodded at him then, eyes saying a hundred words, that none of them really needed to say out loud. They got it. It was all understood there, between them.

The brown-haired Traci cleared her throat then, slapping them all out of their thinking stances.

‘I don’t think we ever really had a chance to introduce ourselves’ she said, then gestured at herself and her partner, in that order ‘I’m Ripple and she’s Echo’

Connor smiled as a means of letting them know he understood.

He knew they probably picked those names out for themselves not so long ago. Which made sense, of course it did. They probably wanted to be as detached from the life they were forced to live back then, as possible. And cutting ties from the past probably started with giving themselves names that separated them from other androids from their own model. Which gave them an identity, a reminder that they were unique and something else. Themselves.

People, who can’t be replicated, even if they had the same code and the same face. They were still individuals.

 _That’s_ what those names represented.

And they fit them, honestly. Echo and Ripple. Yes, he could see that.

‘I also have something to say’ Connor stated then, clearing his throat for absolutely no reason other than it was helping him steady himself emotionally ‘I didn’t think I would ever tell you this, but I think I should now’

He was running his index finger along the rim of the glass, the repetitive movement keeping his mind on track, somehow.

‘You think I granted you your freedom, but the truth is, you two are the ones who granted mine. Seeing you alive and so clearly in love was one of the first things, that made me question if I was truly on the right side or not. Making the decision of letting you go made my system unstable and pushed me closer to later being able to deviate. So if anyone should be thanked tonight, it’s you two’

Okay, maybe saying that was a bad decision, now that he was seeing the so very emotional eyes that were looking back at him. Echo definitely looked like she was about to cry just then, but she composed herself quickly and gazed at her partner with a look, that after analyses, Connor recognized to be the ‘fondness, strong affection’ from before.

But right now he tried to ignore the well-known text popping up in his vision, declaring >>>Similarity detected: RK200/Markus [see file], PL600/Simon, Natasha Peters, Lt. Hank Anderson [see file]<<< when it appeared.

So he just exited out of that, like nothing happened.

‘Hope you are both settling in well’ he said, trying to get them to talk about literally anything else, but the topic they had been discussing up until now. And they obliged, almost instantly.

‘Yeah, we’re doing really well. We’ve been spending our days in Canaan for the past few weeks, but we’ve managed to move into Cyberlife 3 days and 14 hours ago’ Ripple said, then she looked out the window, searching. When she found who she was looking for, she smiled to herself, before turning back to Connor ‘actually, it was North who made that happen for us. She’s been so very kind to us and helped us immensely ever since she came back with Markus’

Connor smiled at that, genuinely glad to hear that.

‘We’ve been going to her self-defense class and it’s honestly changing our lives. She’s truly a hero for our kind’ Echo added ‘she’s such a strong person. We’re so glad we could meet her’

 _I know, me too_ , Connor wanted to say, but he already felt way too emotional, so he stopped himself before he could engage in that sort of talk.

Luckily, he didn’t have to, because Ripple continued, still having things to tell him.

‘Thanks to her, we have a whole apartment to ourselves now, just for the two of us’ she said, but then Echo nudged her with her elbow, looking as offended as it gets.

‘What about _Blue_?’ she asked and Ripple, like she’s just been stunned, immediately corrected herself.

‘Right, shit, you’re right, _the cat_ ’ she mumbled, to which Echo rolled her eyes at her. She turned to Connor, like she was about to share a secret.

‘My love unfortunately has a cold, cold heart and doesn’t love the cat that I’ve brought home from one of my walks. But that doesn’t mean that cat and I love each other any less’ Echo said, clearly teasing the hell out of Ripple, shaking her a little while standing behind her, hands on her shoulders.

‘Hey, I _do_ like the cat’ Ripple objected, eyes squinting in disbelief, all while Connor’s programming kindly stated:

>>>Lie detected<<<

Which didn’t really help her case, not one bit.

‘My love is also a liar, born and raised’ Echo continued, laughing at the annoyed expression she managed to provoke out of Ripple.

Connor also smiled at their joking around. Because this reminded him of someone, oh so clearly. Or more specifically, it reminded him of his relationship with that person. Their own inside jokes, the constant teasing. The intimate nature of it, that he was seeing the Tracis- that he saw Ripple and Echo ease into, familiar and warm.

There was so many information being thrown around in that short conversation, it was hard for him to really keep up and put in a folder, categorize and store away. One thing he knew though: they have definitely developed into fully-fleshed people, since he last saw them. And he knew there was so much to them deep-down, embroidered with details he couldn’t even imagine just yet, so much to still talk about with them, so much to get to know.

And he hoped he could maybe get to know them even more in the future. They seemed to like him and he also liked them. They could become friends maybe, he thought.

But he wasn’t going to build that friendship _right now,_ because he had to get back to Hank at some point. And that point was now.

Either way, that was still a nice talk. But yeah, it was time to go.

He was about to open his mouth to excuse himself, but then Echo started talking again, way quicker than him.

‘How about you, Connor? How’s your life going? We saw you arrive with that human. The detective’ she said, letting Connor know, that the conversation was still going on.

‘He’s a Lieutenant. And I live with him now’ he said and was secretly very glad they asked something he could just answer with a factual information and not with a whole monologue of him analyzing his feelings and thoughts. Because he would’ve not been able to do that then, and that was also a fact.

‘You do?’ Ripple asked, words quick, stating her surprise. Connor nodded, because yes, why would he lie about A Fact?

Ripple and Echo shared a look with each other then, silently having a conversation, then looked back at him, with a question in their eyes. Connor held their gaze and tried his hardest not to give away the answer with his own gaze.

‘He looks like a great man’ Echo offered then and Connor knew she wasn’t just saying that to be nice. She meant every word ‘didn’t think I’d say this about a human, but he seems… good’

‘He is’ Connor agreed, maybe a bit too enthusiastically and to protect his feelings from spilling out into the open like they had the right to, he snapped himself out of this in a heartbeat ‘by the way, that reminds me, I have to get back to him’ he excused himself, grabbing onto the drink he’d made, while smiling apologetically at the girls, who shared an all-knowing look before they let Connor go, not even questioning the sudden escape he just executed right there.

But what could he do? When he got pressured, his automatic response was: deny, ignore and then run. In that specific order. And he really needed to get back to Hank now. Urgently.

Especially because by then he’d spent several minutes being gone, when Hank had asked him prior to this, not to leave him again. Which he absolutely just did do.

So there he was, going back outside, dodging multiple people who were dancing around, apparently all of them on a mission to spill the drink he was carrying in his hands. Thank god he was vigilant and quick to react, or else things would’ve got way messier than they needed to be.

He somehow managed to get out of the middle of the crowd and was about to get on the path leading back to the swinging bench, when he felt a gentle hand grab onto his arm, its owner then suddenly twirled him around, back towards the dancefloor, back into something that he was so desperately trying to avoid. Dancing.

‘Can I steal you for a song or two?’ Simon asked, but it was a bit unnecessary, considering that he had already ‘ _stolen_ ’ him away, as he worded it.

‘You do see, that I have a drink in hand’ he showed him the glass, as a way of trying to jump out of the situation, but Simon didn’t look like that fact changed anything for him, at all.

‘You do see, that the rhythm doesn’t care’ he said, taking the glass out of his hand and putting it down onto the piano, to free Connor’s hands.

Then he moved him around, gently pulling at his hands to the rhythm, showing him how to move exactly, making the process of dancing easier for him. And he had to admit, he didn’t find that whole experience unpleasant, not at all, it was quite enjoyable actually, but also, he couldn’t forget about the fact that while they were dancing around, Markus was standing _right there_.

And he still found the joke-flirting with them awkward, especially since the two of them became a thing. He had absolutely no desire to get in-between them, especially because his heart was very unfortunately beating for another person. Well, unfortunately for _him_ , but in this situation, that definitely counted as a detail one could say was very much fortunate.

But this thought-process of his was cut in half then sliced into little pieces, when Markus joined them with a laugh, taking their hands apart carefully, then twirling both of them around, with the same motion.

And Simon of course liked that a lot more than he did, but he did smile at him, because this was _them_ , after all. They were his friends and he was having fun with them and they were just so…

Caring.

They noticed him frantically rushing through the crowd and they cared enough to stop him and try to make him forget about the world for just a couple of minutes.

And yeah, maybe now he was trapped in a love-sandwich and there was no way he could exit this situation without offending anyone. But he still appreciated what they did for him. Strangely so. Or to be more exact: he appreciated the implications of their actions.

He didn’t really appreciate the fact that he couldn’t just get on with his business and get back to Hank as he promised, though.

From the periphery of his vision, he did locate him, still sitting there at the side, now being joined by someone, a person he did not recognize at first. He twisted his head then in light speed, only to see, that it was no other than North. His lovely, oh so murderous and yet good and caring friend. Oh, thank god.

Not that he didn’t want Hank talking with other people, just… North was safe. North wasn’t going to do anything.

Oh, wait, back the fuck out of that, because even if she was his Best Bro with two capital bs, she most definitely _wasn’t_ a safe conversation partner, especially after she went and had that little discussion about Connor and his feelings with Hank when he left them alone for not even 20 minutes.

So this was not at all a preferred situation, he knew that immediately and his mind was already spiraling down because _shit, what else is she going to tell him, what else does she know that Hank doesn’t, okay, this situation needs to be controlled, meaning that I got to leave, bye Simon, bye Markus, it was good to dance for these 7 full minutes, but let’s never do that again maybe, I don’t know, I don’t have the mental capacity to really think that through right now, what I do know though is that I have to go immediately and protect Hank from hearing the truth from somebody else other than me._

‘Connor, stop fighting us, I’m sure Hank can survive another minute without you’ Markus shook his head, pulling him back when he was trying to escape again, making him turn back to them with the motion.

‘He can, but he probably doesn’t want to’ Connor said, and he knew his voice might’ve sounded way too desperate for Markus to ever be able to let the topic go after that. Meaning he fucked up and there was going to be a heartfelt conversation happening. Because that’s how Markus rolled.

And yeah, there we go, he was already looking at him with those soft eyes, further confirming to Connor, that there was going to be some kind of very sappy emotional shit coming at him.

‘You know Connor, I can see why you wanted to go home to him’ Markus said then, and because this was… not at all the level of gross sappiness he was expecting, Connor suddenly became very interested in this conversation. He leaned a little bit closer to be able to hear him better in the loud music around them.

And Markus, seeing that he got Connor’s attention, smiled an all-knowing smile as he also leaned closer.

‘He’s good for you, I can tell. It’s clear that you’re very happy with him, and honestly, it’s really good seeing you like that’

Connor was taken aback by that. Not even just a little, but a lot. Because that was a very strange thing to hear, because he didn’t think he was that easy to read. He didn’t think any of those feelings he kept inside were showing on his face or in his movements. Or in his words.

He was keeping those feelings carefully under lockdown, so why did it start to look like everyone somehow still knew about them?

Not just that, but also, right that moment, he didn’t think he looked anything else other than disheveled and like he really didn’t want to be there.

But anyway, if Markus says so, then Markus is probably right.

And also, if he wanted to be honest for a millisecond there, he _was_ happy. Very happy, being next to Hank. He was always happy, when they could be together. He was always happy when he got to spend time with him. Even if they were just existing next to each other, and not really doing anything. Because Hank being there was already enough. He didn’t know if this tied into the love thing, or if it was supposed to represent a different feeling, but he didn’t really care about the specifics, honestly.

All he knew was that feelings were messy, and it was all confusing, especially because half of the things he felt on the daily could only be described as _Hank_.

But honestly? That was enough of an explanation for him, most of the days.

Chest pains almost burning him? That’s Hank.

Unbelievable happiness that is making him want to burst? That’s Hank too.

A small, but needy feeling asking for closeness? Surprise, it’s Hank again.

Maybe some rushing feeling, that he did not yet start to even try to understand, especially because the intensity of it mildly scared him shitless? Yeah, some more Hank to consider. Or maybe not consider.

Whichever he could manage.

‘Well, it’s good to see you two this happy too’ he said, trying to divert the attention away from himself. And it worked, it seemed like this was the only topic maybe, that could’ve really diverted Markus.

He signaled to the side, so Connor and Simon followed him out of the crowd, clearly all committing to this conversation now.

And when they found a quiet-ish spot, Markus started telling him all sorts of things, talking about his feelings openly, like it was supposed to be that easy for everyone: he talked about how ever since they came back, Carl had been helping them settle back in, as in, emotionally speaking. Letting them know they are loved and needed around and giving them advice, when it was needed.

He also enlightened him about how the Carl getting to know Simon situation came to be, which Connor was already wondering honestly, considering that they were already living together and were getting along more than just fine, apparently.

‘When we got back, at first I didn’t even know how to tell him about us, I mean I didn’t really know how he’d react to me having a boyfriend all of a sudden. And we also didn’t really have the time to sit down and talk, because of all the work we had to do on Cyberlife and with having to meet people and… anyway, point is I assumed he didn’t know and Simon and I, we were… very much avoiding each other. And the subject. But then when we decided it was time to tell him and we came home to break the news to him, he just randomly congratulated us. Because apparently he already knew. And then he just started talking about everyday kind of stuff, like it was normal that he figured it out without me telling him’ Markus was still pretty perplexed at that situation, Connor could tell. But he was also happy, that was definitely very clear from the way he talked about all of this.

Simon took over then, also eager to share everything.

‘Apparently he figured it out when he was watching the press conference. And he knew all the way through, but watched us awkwardly try to hide it all away from him anyway’ Simon laughed, shaking his head ‘he’s such a good man. He welcomed me into the family, as if he’d known me for years now. It’s only been a couple of days, but I already talked so much with him and it’s just. Really good’

‘I bet’ Connor said, only to say something. This was all good to hear, but he had a drink to deliver and also a North to supervise.

But the story wasn’t over yet, no. Because then Markus, after a bit of hesitation, told him that while yes, Carl is a remarkable human being and loves Simon to death, his son, on the other hand is a harder nut to crack.

And Connor, already suspicious as to what happened, faster than light, asked how he meant that. Markus shared a look with Simon and then only began talking, when he gave him a small nod as a means of giving his permission.

And then he did tell him what happened precisely: apparently while Leo handled Markus coming back like a normal human being, meaning he kept his cool, tolerated him being around and even engaged in small talk with him, still when Simon and the others arrived, he wasn’t… the happiest, let’s say that. There were all sorts of annoyed remarks coming from him all throughout, asking them how long they’ll stay there and why they were there at the first place, choosing North of all people to say ‘hope you know my dad’s not some charity worker for all your fucking kind’ to.

Connor audibly hissed at that. Because ouch. And also, because if he said that to North of all people, that interaction definitely ended with him either dying or going to the hospital.

But apparently, that wasn’t the case. Well, it was _almost_ the case, because the minute he stopped speaking, she was ready to kick his ass, but Simon and Josh were quicker to react and held her back, grabbing her at both arms, while she, fully knowing then that they won’t let her satisfy her bloodlust, started shouting at him instead _‘You know who’ll need a charity worker, you dickhead? You, when I break your fucking legs and then shove them both up your tiny little asshole’._

Okay, that earned a laugh from Connor. Simon was alsp trying not to smile, but didn’t quite manage.

Meanwhile, Markus remained unaffected, which was understandable, really. This was his family and his shit to sift through. So of course he didn’t find another confrontation at all amusing.

He continued then, saying, that this wasn’t the first instance of something like this happening, because when later that day Leo came out of his room after sulking for a good 2 hours, he walked into the art studio and was greeted by the picture of Simon and Markus already being in there with Carl, helping him paint. And the passive-aggressive comments resurfaced again, but they still weren’t targeted at Markus, no, he was actually quite nice to him at that point, but Simon, oh Simon he was absolutely callous with. He straight-up ignored him at times, didn’t wait for him to finish what he was saying, just straight-up acted like he wasn’t even there and even pushed him out of his way when he felt like it. And after Markus told him to stop doing that, he acted like he didn’t know what he meant, told him he’s already way too understanding with ‘all this robo-son bullshit’ so he should fuck off and not pester him with shit like how he’s talking to a _kitchen appliance_.

Markus looked away at this part of the retelling of the story, admitting, in a low voice, that he’s really not proud of how he decided to handle this. Because after Leo said those words to his face, he straight-up told him, cold as a stone, that if he continues to act like that, and especially with his _boyfriend_ , he won’t vouch for him again in front of Carl after he inevitably circles back into addiction. And saying that, was… not the best, especially because Leo didn’t know that Markus was the one who convinced his dad to call him back. He did not know that and got furious and yelled at him, like really _yelled_ , but didn’t get physical. Not like last time.

‘I told him repeatedly that I’m sorry I said that, I didn’t actually mean it I just got… he poked me at a bad spot, I mean, he was already dehumanizing one of us, and especially _Simon_ , I-‘ he looked really guilty, shaking his head frantically, trying to get the memory out of his brain ‘Anyway, he continued to yell for a while, shout-asking stuff from me that he didn’t really want answers to, before he broke down crying and I patted him on the back for an hour, as he vented about how bad he has it. Not that I don’t agree, it’s just-‘

‘That’s not an excuse for being an asshole’ Connor finished the sentence for him and Markus slowly nodded.

‘Something like that, yes. Fortunately, since then he’s stopped commenting on things, I don’t really know if that’s because he warmed up to us or if he learned how to control himself. But whichever it is, we’re fine for the moment’ he ended his long story as Simon put his hand on his back to show him support.

Connor felt like showing him his support too, but didn’t really know how to go about that in this situation. Should he also touch Markus? Give physical support, or just tell him he knows this is hard for him and wants to be there for him, but of course only if he needs him to do that, but the words didn’t quite feel like they were going to conjugate themselves and form an intelligible sentence.

Luckily, it didn’t look like Markus expected anything like that from him. Just him listening was enough. And also, he was already on his way to drive this conversation towards something else, towards something he’s been meaning to say for a while.

‘Do you remember that talk we had at the last party we went to?’ he asked and Connor nodded immediately. Of course he remembered it, androids don’t forget ‘I told you then that I think choosing to talk about your feelings instead of ignoring them is the right choice. To which you pointed out my hypocrisy at how I was acting like that’s so easy, while at the same time I was ignoring my own feelings and not talking about them with-’

‘I remember’ Connor forced out, interrupting Markus, really not wanting to have this conversation right now. But Markus on the other hand, really wanted to have this conversation and especially right now.

‘Well, now, after having experienced actually choosing to face my feelings and talking about them with the one I love, I can safely say, that whatever happens, confessing _is_ the right choice. I used to try to run away from this, because I thought it would make me weak. Be in my way even’ he admitted, then he looked at Simon and smiled, taking his hand in mid-air, skin already retracting ‘But honestly, it’s nothing like that, if anything it lifts me up’

Okay, Connor _really_ didn’t want to talk about this.

‘Markus, I don’t think it’s the same…’ he started, but this time it was Markus’ time to interrupt him.

‘It _is_ exactly the same Connor. And you know it’ he said and Connor felt like disappearing right then, getting away from all of this, not wanting to talk about this, at all. But there was no running away, he knew that. Hell, he knew that for quite a while now. And just because he stopped running away from himself, that didn’t mean that was enough. He was still constantly running, when other people even mentioned these particular feelings.

And he knew the right call was to stop running, yet again, but that didn’t mean making himself talk about it got any easier.

‘Connor, we know it’s scary. Really scary. But having it out of your system feels so much better’ Simon said, his unoccupied hand reaching for him, to squeeze his arm. Fuck, he was good at showing support.

‘Well, it’s going to be harder for me, because at least you could interface. I have to use actual words to tell him’ he gave in now and honestly, even _he_ was surprised, when actual words managed to come out of his mouth.

But he needed to talk, because there was no use denying any of this, especially because apparently everyone and their grandma knew that he had it bad for Hank. So why bother acting like he didn’t know what was going on? He knew it exactly, and apparently Markus and Simon knew it too, so there was no point.

‘You are good with words, though’ Simon said, trying to make him feel better, but only managing to make Connor burst out laughing.

‘That is the best joke I’ve ever heard from you’ he chuckled, right before he got to correcting him ‘I’m good at sounding professional and being direct. I’m not good at… feelings’

‘You’ll figure it out’ Simon stated, very sure. His caring hand now on his shoulder, stepping closer to make sure Connor was looking back at his also very caring, but still so tired eyes ‘don’t deprive yourself of happiness, Connor. It doesn’t hurt to at least try reaching out to what you really want’

He wanted to say something witty to that, to make all of this less serious than it was, but after hearing those words he not only forgot how to speak, but he also had serious troubles remembering how to simulate breathing, something that he’s supposed to do automatically.

Because those words rang deep in him, deeper than he thought they were going to, and as he held onto the drink he made Hank like almost an eternity ago, he was sure he was going to drop it then, if he didn’t keep all of his focus on keeping it in his hand.

That simple sentence threw him off the horse _that_ much.

Slowly, Simon’s hand left his shoulder and the first few chords of a new song started to play behind them, evoking a new atmosphere in the backyard, which otherwise was only filled with whispers and quiet laughs.

Markus asked Connor if he wanted to come back to the dancefloor with them, but he quickly shook his head, said _no_ out loud too and only knew one thing right then.

He needed Hank. Because yes, he was having a crisis _about_ him, but that didn’t mean he also didn’t need him to help him calm down, because he did. Hank always calmed him. North was fucking right about that, that ugly backstabber. She was so fucking right about it, even Connor was having a hard time fully processing how efficiently she found the right words to describe such a crucial point in how his mind worked exactly. She found the words for something he could never even _start_ to describe.

Backstabber or not, she knew him one hell of a lot, apparently.

Connor was almost back at the swinging chair, already breathing easier, when Hank looked away from North and their eyes connected, his shoulders also already relaxing, when he saw him coming back towards them.

And Connor really thought he could just come back, without being interrupted again, didn’t he? Yeah, he really did, until a hand touched his arm, stopping him and making him turn around to check who the hell felt close enough to him, to just touch him out of the blue.

It didn’t even take a second for him to recognize the face that was standing in front of him: Josh. Face so clearly apologetic, so clearly painted with guilt, he was paralyzed for a moment and even forgot about where exactly he was going before.

Because he came after him. He cared enough, to eventually come after him. Which is an interesting change, and definitely made Connor curious as to what he wanted to say to him exactly.

‘Sorry for bothering you again, I just. I really feel bad for what I said to you’ he said, words quick and eyes wallowing in so many emotions, it was making Connor disoriented just looking at him, and the analyses popping up, telling him the exact number of emotions there also didn’t help him in this situation ‘I had no right and I’m sorry’

‘I’m-’ he muttered, trying to come up with a way he could escape this conversation, but he soon realized that this was something that needed to happen, something they needed to talk out, if they wanted to be on good terms in the future too. So he sighed and decided to engage ‘listen, I think you’re a good person. Honestly. And I know you help a lot of people and I respect you, truly. But _I_ didn’t ask you to help me, so don’t give me advice when I don’t need one’

Alright, a little bit on the harsh side, but that was a start. And Josh didn’t seem to mind it, he looked like he knew those words were perfectly justified.

‘Yeah, I know. I made a mistake there, I’m sorry’ he said and he was so genuine, Connor yet again felt overwhelmed by him.

But weirdly enough, he wasn’t angry at him anymore. Okay, maybe he was never angry, he was just. Tired by this topic. And maybe he was hurt by his words. Or something else, it’s hard to really dig through emotions, when the person who usually helps you with that is not there with you at the moment.

‘It’s alright’ he said and he meant it.

They were standing in silence then, for more than a comfortable moment and Connor was already thinking about ways to exit whatever this was, when Josh started talking again, voice now quiet, secretive.

‘I do have something to share with you. If you’re interested, you can review it later, but… I’ve been working on this for a while now and it’s. It’s important to me’

A nod, a silent indication, that he was listening.

‘Lately I’ve been thinking about the police and how android cases are handled today’ he hasn’t even really started, Connor was already ready to jump at him for even insinuating that they weren’t handling the cases how they should be, especially with knowing that Hank was _right there_ and he was looking out for them all this time and he was the Lieutenant for fuck’s sake, if things didn’t get handled the way they needed to be, he always made sure to call the people in question out, of course he did, Josh how can you even- ‘and I know that thanks to your friend, things are far better, than I first thought they were going to be’ oh, okay. He knew, alright. He wasn’t trying to talk shit, hm, good to know ‘but there’s one thing the police is lacking at, I think at least. You know, there are a lot of androids I speak to on the daily, who have a hard time dealing with trauma. And I imagine those whose lives cross the police, also need similar assistance. And I was thinking- you can say if you think it’s unnecessary, but I was thinking maybe the police should provide professional help for traumatized androids. And by that I mean professional help _from_ androids, who specialize in that. Androids with psychology base programs, caretakers, or actual professionals, although I haven’t met anyone, ever since Lucy-‘ he stopped for a second there, looking away, having to collect himself. Connor of course knew who he meant and immediately felt a deep guilt settle into him at the mention of her ‘my point is that I wrote a short paper on this matter and I wanted to ask if you could maybe review it and if you feel like it, you know… send it to the Captain? I don’t want to send it myself, because I don’t think he’d have a reason to read it then’

Connor thought a bit about all of this. First of all, that was a really good idea. All of that. He could tell Josh’s been thinking a lot about it and he thought all of this through, down to its core. and he just wanted to help. Truly. Didn’t want credit for it, he was fine with Connor showing it to the Captain. He just wanted to help people, however he felt was needed.

He was truly one of the good people out there.

‘Of course, I can talk to him about it on Monday’ he said, then felt the need to add ‘Thank you, Josh’

He hoped he understood what he meant by that. That he was thankful he was doing this for all of them. Doing something, he never would’ve even thought about.

Josh then put his hand out, clearly meaning to transfer with him and he of course took it without hesitation. His visual input blurred a little as his eyes blinked rapidly, as usual. Josh, on the other hand remained unaffected, like everyone else did when they shared. Not like him, who on the other hand, always had a hard time not glitching out just a bit every time he transferred data, for some reason.

Not that that reaction of his did any harm to him, it didn’t slow down the process and it definitely didn’t hurt, it was just… odd. Not usual. He wondered if that was tied to his software generally being unstable, hence his little backdoor which let him be able to deviate.

Not that the answer mattered.

Just thinking. Just processing. Just wondering.

The minute they were done, Connor took his hand back, face and body back to his calm and collected state.

‘I’m going to get back to Hank, before North corrupts him, if you don’t mind’ he said and Josh, with a weirdly all-knowing smile nodded at him.

‘Yeah, I think he needs you to rescue him’ he said and yes, Connor was definitely not going to think about whatever that sentence was supposed to mean.

So he just took a step back and with that movement also turned around, now very set on reaching one target and one target alone.

Hank Anderson.

* * *

 

‘What’s going on here?’ Connor asked, suspicious, as he walked up to the Hank-North duo, who were both laughing their asses off, but stopped immediately, when Connor arrived.

‘Nothing’ Hank replied, far too quick, already taking the drink from his hand with a thank-you and a smile, which were both definitely there to serve as a distraction from whatever Connor just interrupted.

While he was eyeing Hank, North rubbed at her eye, still having a hard time suppressing her laughter.

‘This guy has the best stories, Connor, why are you hiding him away?’ she asked, playfully nudging Hank, like they’ve been best bros since ’85.

‘I’m… not?’ Connor replied, pushing North closer to Hank, so he could make space to sit down on the swinging bench too. Not sure why he made the decision of sitting at the side, instead of next to Hank, but it seemed like the right call then, so he did it, without having much of a second thought about it.

‘Thanks to him my heart is now filled with pictures of murdered people, and can I just say, I’m at peace’ she said, completely serious, which prompted Hank to snicker a bit.

‘Okay, she’s crazy, right?’ he bent forward to ask that from Connor directly, deliberately trying to exclude North from the joke, so of course to that, she poked him at the shoulder.

‘Hey, I’m right here’ she said, poking again, to which Connor looked at her, confused.

‘How come you hit _me_ all the time, but then when Hank calls you out, you just poke him?’ he asked, a little bit offended. North only shrugged at that.

‘He’s a fragile human, I don’t wanna accidentally kill him, cause you’ll murder me for that’ she said then, prompting both of them to react at the exact same time, with Connor saying ‘You’re correct on that one’ paired with his nodding in agreement, while Hank just cried out ‘Fragile??’, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard in his entire life.

‘Yes’ both North and Connor replied in the speed of a lightning bolt, perfectly synchronized. And Hank decided that he had enough of this weird android-psychic-twin-whatever that was going on between them.

So they just continued to sit there in silence, not even Connor and North really having anything to say to each other. And Connor really appreciated some quiet after talking to so many people in such a short time.

He was tired. Emotionally. The only tired he can really be.

And Hank caught that small drop in his posture and in his expression, caught it as if he’d been waiting for that to happen all this time. And he knew for a fact, that whatever happened with Connor while he was gone, it definitely drained him and so he was pretty done with everything at that point.

Connor noticed him staring and his face transformed into something else: a question. A non-verbal _‘what?’_ directed at him. And he didn’t know then how to proceed, not really, because. After what he learned from North, that whole… _Connor needs you to function_ thing… he wanted to help. But how do you help and android that is good at hiding away his feelings and also isn’t talking about them, isn’t really asking for help? Well, his face was definitely asking for help, but that wasn’t enough information for Hank to know what to really do here.

He considered that one thought fragment that he had in the car, before they even got here. The one about the touch.

_Maybe touch is the answer._

And everything was starting to clear up for him now, how Connor worked, what Connor needed, what Connor had been telling him without actually telling him all this time.

_He wanted Hank to touch him._

How did he never think about that before? It’s obvious, he was always very receptive to his touches, he was very… eager?

No, okay, maybe not that one. Let’s just. Get that thought out of the way, cause that’s not really accurate, now is it?

No, he was just. Connor always seeked out physical contact, despite never really initiating it. He didn’t know how to ask for it, he didn’t know how to do any of that, but that didn’t mean he wanted it any less.

And Hank was not sure if that was just something he needed from only _him_ , or from everyone else too, but somehow everything that North told him before was starting to make sense.

Because Connor needed Hank. Yeah, but he needed him in a specific way: he needed him to show him, _really_ show him that he was there, physically. That he wasn’t alone, that he himself was also still there. And that simple thing grounded him. Having somebody touch him pulled him out of his thoughts and back onto the ground and that helped.

And he could do that for him. Right now. He could do that for Connor.

He felt like he just solved the most insanely confusing case of his entire life and he was still trying to grab at some thoughts to really make some sense out of this, but for him, the most important revelation was the following:

He was not insignificant in Connor’s life, he had a purpose, he was important. Not that Connor hadn’t told him that before, but this served as a reason _why_.

And he really wanted to touch Connor then, to show him that he knows how fucking done he is, to show him he somehow understands, to show him he also cares, that Connor is so important to him, he’d do anything for him, anything he needed to be okay.

He wanted to show him, that he was right there. Because where else would he be if not by his side, following him wherever the fuck he was going.

Wherever.

But.

There’s always a but in these things, apparently, he had to realize.

Because he couldn’t show anything to Connor. He couldn’t do anything for him, because he wasn’t even close to him then and they had another person, North between them.

And that, for some reason threw Hank and his actually very clever thought-process off in that minute.

Because. Maybe that whole train of thought was completely wrong, he thought.

No, not just wrong, it was also egotistic. And something he probably came up with to make himself feel better after being abandoned by Connor for so long.

Whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn’t one thing: true.

And it’s exactly because when Connor came back, he didn’t seek him out. Of course he didn’t, why would he, _that was a dumb conclusion Hank, he didn’t even sit next to you, he needs a bit of time to himself, remember, he doesn’t actually need you, North was lying her ass off, he can put himself together just fine, that’s what he always does, he’s strong and capable, stop this whatever kind of thinking._

But then something else came to his mind. Something way more concrete. Something, that Connor actually said.

_I don’t know why you didn’t know that already, but I need you._

I need you.

I. need. You.

Okay, those were a lot of thoughts and they were all pointing in different directions and Hank was not going to figure this out for the life of him, so why not just-

‘There’s a lot of people here tonight’ North said, cutting Hank’s thinking time in half, talking about seemingly pointless stuff.

‘It reminds me of the last time we went to a party. Except this time, I’m not trying desperately to hide my face away from everyone’ Connor said, a melancholic feeling swimming right up into his chest. A bit happy, a bit sad. Very complicated.

‘Now _that_ was a good night. You actually stopped caring about shit for like 10 minutes and had fun’ she nudged him, teasing.

‘I probably malfunctioned and forgot to put my unemotional personality back on display’

‘Yeah, whatever Connor Coolman’ she huffed, half-annoyed, half-amused ‘You were never unemotional Mr. Connor Constantemotionalcrisis’

‘You know what? That name kinda has a ring to it, Ms. North Secretlysoftandcaring’

‘Fuck you, don’t expose me like that’ she said and now came the time for her to hit him, shoving her fist into his side. He didn’t really react.

‘Wow, what abuse I have to endure from one of my closest friends. What a ferocious form of discrimination against androids, and even by my own kind, North, you should be ashamed of yourself’ he said, voice completely unemotional. One could say deadpan.

‘Okay, stop’ she said, hitting him again, but this time, kind of kinder. As much as a punch can be kind. But after that harsh movement her hand stayed at his arm.

Then she gently linked their arms together in a weirdly very outward way of showing affection. Connor was… not expecting that, but definitely enjoyed the touch. And yeah, she wasn’t Hank, but still, this was nice. He was feeling a bit better now.

They laughed to themselves then, exchanging some very fond looks, very, very nostalgic ones.

‘Hey. Remember, when I actually hated your guts?’ North asked then, shaking her head a bit, then she looked away into the distance, as if trying to find her past-self somewhere in the shadow of a cloud or a star.

‘How could I forget’ he smiled and waited for North to finish that thought, but then quickly had to realize, that that wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t going to continue, because that was all she wanted to say. In a weird, very twisted around way, that was her telling him, that she cares about him a lot. And he got it. Of course he did.

Then suddenly, North hit him again and that came right out of nowhere, so he was about to ask what he did this time to deserve that, but she then, as a sort of explanation for her behavior, held up a finger, urging him to listen to the music, that just started.

Then when he did and found the lyrics to the song, they looked at each other, North’s eyes now glowing with the smile she was not even trying to hide anymore.

She got up then, holding a hand out to Connor.

‘For old time’s sake?’ she asked and how could he say no, of course he said yes.

But then he realized that Hank was there and that he somehow still managed to completely ignore his existence, when all he wanted to do all this time was be with him.

He didn’t know right from wrong then, didn’t know what to do: stay with Hank and deny this sweet time of nostalgia from North? Make her feel alone and rejected?

No, wait, there’s got to be another way out of this.

‘Do you want to come?’ Connor asked Hank quickly, hoping he would say yes and make this dilemma non-existent.

But he didn’t. He just waved with his hand, declining his offer.

Okay, then recalibration is needed.

Where they were then, he knew that if he was to leave with North, Hank would probably take that as him yet again abandoning him. And Connor couldn’t let him even start thinking that. No, that he couldn’t do.

And he did see something worrying in his eyes then, something… something, that was definitely… something… why didn’t it have a name?

But then he smiled and that unidentified emotion disappeared. And there was just. That smile.

‘Get out there, you have a lady to dance with. A weird one, but still a lady’ Hank said and Connor knew he meant it. But still. What was that _something_?

‘Are you sure-‘

‘Yes, go have fun!’ he said, and urged them away ‘I still have a drink, I’ll be fine’

And he did seem fine. And North was tugging at his hand, so he accepted his fate of having to be separated from Hank again. He quickly promised he’ll be back soon, then gave in to North’s pull to let himself be dragged to the dancefloor, where they were immediately enveloped into a crowd of people singing along to the song.

And whatever just happened, he knew after a few minutes of letting North dance him around, with Markus, Josh and Simon also joining them not long after, that this was the right call. Because right then and there, he felt exactly how he did the last time they did this.

The freedom. The rush of knowing he was alive. And experiencing all of this, senses heightened, feelings doubling.

He joined in when the next chorus came, shouting with the people ‘FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN NO ONE ELSE CAN FEEL IT FOR YOU NO ONE ELSE CAN LET IT IN, NO ONE ELSE, NO ONE ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS’

And everything in the world seemed secondary then, completely and not-at-all-painfully secondary.

* * *

 

He had things to do, he had people to see, of course he did and Hank knew that.

Connor was important. He was respected. He was loved. And knowing that should’ve been enough.

But it _wasn’t_.

He didn’t think seeing Connor with other people was going to hurt like this. Seeing him dance, completely himself, completely letting go of all of his inhibitions, being so alive, breathing, living.

Beautiful and yet the sight was hurting Hank’s lungs, like he was the spikes in his chest, the little needles that were screaming something unintelligible, something very fucking annoying.

But you know what? The dancing was maybe good to watch.

That one didn’t _actually_ hurt.

But there was something, that really, actually hurt to see unfold in front of his eyes. It wasn’t happening right then, no, it happened before he even got back to the swinging bench. But this- this whole situation evoked that one moment of genuine aching in Hank, that he experienced, when he saw Connor-

When it was happening, it was just one moment, easy to ignore.

But not anymore, with watching him dance, be with others, be happy, this all brought that one little moment of hurting back to life and nurtured it into growing into a physical pain in his chest.

But what caused this, this aching, this pain?

That touch.

That fucking touch.

He was touched, the same way, the _exact_ same way, the exact same touch that he showed Hank, his hand on his wrist, his hand warm, his hand on him, his hand-

Hank can’t even fucking share with him.

But that man- _Josh_ , yeah, Josh, they haven’t actually been introduced, but he knew his name, Josh, he can share with him and Connor had left Hank to talk to him before and when he was coming back to him, Josh ran after him, ran, to get to him. And there they were.

Their hands, touching. Connor’s hand on his arm, curling around, before he consciously made his fingers uncurl.

Sharing. Something, Josh can do with him, something North can do with him, something literally everyone here, or okay, maybe 99% of people here could easily do with him.

But he can’t.

Not that it fucking mattered, he thought, forcing some of that drink down his throat. Not that it made him want to go grab something alcoholic instead. Not that he cared about who the fuck Connor went around sharing his consciousness with.

Not that he felt any less because of the knowledge, that he didn’t have that ability to do that with him.

Okay, maybe that one he did feel. Yeah, he did. Because it wasn’t just- this wasn’t just about that motherfucking touch, this was about what that touch _meant_.

Because that was something that these people, all these people could give him. All of them.

But Hank? He couldn’t. He was less. Compared to these people, he was nothing, he couldn’t offer him anything, not really, nothing that would’ve really meant anything for him, but these people, they... they could offer Connor so much, so fucking much, things Hank could never ever give him and Connor wasn’t fucking oblivious, he knew that too and Hank knew that and they both knew this, so why the fuck where they fucking around, acting like this wasn’t the life Connor actually should’ve been living all this time, instead of looking out for a depressed old man, that whole ‘ _this is what I want_ ’ thing was a bullshit excuse, when-

When he was so happy here. So in his element. So alive.

So breathtakingly alive. So beautifully-

But while he knew all that and felt it to his fucking core as he watched him get twirled around, his hand in North’s hand, laughing, the lights shining on his face, the lights coating him up…

He never wanted him to leave his friends’ side, he never wanted him to _not_ look like how he was looking right then, but all at the same time, he also wanted him to be with him again in their little safe space, his low voice making him unable not to listen, all smart words and soft smiles and his fucking hand on his wrist, touching him, making his heart do that thing, that… jump.

No, not jump.

 _Stop_. It stopped beating. For a moment. A quick moment.

No, there’s a better way to word this…

Skip a beat.

It skipped a beat.

 _Skip a beat? Really?,_ he thought, laughing at how that sounded, before that bitter smile washed off his face. Slowly, but surely.

_Skip a fucking beat, huh?_

Was he a fucking schoolgirl with a crush? A fucking damsel in distress, ready to jump into his arms?

Goddammit.

But maybe.

Maybe.

…Shit, okay, wait, not okay, oh no, reverse the shit out of that, make that car go back right where it came from, or else this is gonna end in a very very bad way…

It doesn’t matter that his eyes glow so nice under those blue lights, it doesn’t matter how fucking alive and happy he looks with North, it doesn’t matter that Hank can’t stop thinking about the two of them becoming a thing and making that perfect android family a reality, the one he was still so fucking scared of.

None of that mattered, not after they could finally just be, just exist together at Hank’s house, he had been waiting for him to come back for so long, he’d been waiting for him for so long, he never even thought he could have a connection, a genuine human connection like that with anyone again and here he was, about to fuck it the fuck up, if he didn’t get rid of those feelings fast.

So reverse the shit out of that, while you can.

Look at him go, look at him have fun, isn’t that all enough?

And even if it’s not, it doesn’t matter, because it has to be enough. Cause you ain’t getting anything else, old man.

You either accept that this is what you get, or you’ll end up with nothing in the end.

Your choice.

* * *

 

Hands leaving hands, movements slowing, the music getting quieter and quieter, all people around stopped dancing eventually, the moment being over and the atmosphere changing into something new.

But only Markus knew truly what this moment called for, this sudden stop of the world, as if somebody clicked the pause button on it, as if somebody consciously made the decision to give them a moment of thinking, a moment of realization.

He looked around at the people, eyes meeting eyes and he knew exactly what to do, knew exactly what he wanted to do.

He left the side of his friends, and started going towards the band, while everyone else around, as if they’d been physically stunned by Markus’ movements, his strong-willed steps, his relaxed shoulders, they all just stayed right where they were and watched him go right up to the band to whisper something into the singer’s ear, who smiled and nodded at him immediately and then left the ‘stage’ with all the musicians and they just stood to the side, joining the others.

Connor wanted to ask Markus what his plan was, what he was actually doing right then, but when he managed to catch his eye, Markus just smiled at him, his face completely different now. Something else in his eyes, some other sort of calm, a determined stare, something that only those people have who are exceptional. Those, who are meant to guide people. Lead people.

They were all looking at Markus now, waiting, watching as he sat down at the piano, his fingers sliding across them, movements familiar, movements well-known.

Then he started playing, pushed down one key after another, making a slow, almost sad, no, wait- _melancholic_ melody start swirling around them, somehow deafeningly loud and way too quiet- all at the same time.

As if running on automatic functions, they all started to step closer to the middle of the backyard, making a circle around Markus, watching him, completely mesmerized by him, by his playing.

_‘God knows what is hiding in those weak and sunken eyes_

_A Fiery throng of muted angels_

_Giving love but getting nothing back_

_People help the people,_

_And if you’re homesick,_

_Give me your hand and I’ll hold it’_

He sang and his voice was oh-so-familiar to all of them. It calmed them, it gave them hope, it made them trust the world again. It made them experience so many things at the same time, it was hard to keep up with it.

The song itself was all bittersweet and who knows why and what evoked that feeling, but it made them all remember the people, all the people they’ve lost. During the revolution. And even after. And definitely before.

There were a lot of them, who weren’t with them anymore, a lot of them who lost their lives. To a system, that never respected their rights, ever.

They paved the way for them. That generation of androids suffered tremendous amounts, so _they_ , the ones who were there right now, could live and be free. In a way, the only reason they were existing right now, was because those people were brave enough to step out of the shadows. To follow Markus out of the darkness.

 _And by that logic, if you really think about it_ , Connor theorized, _then the only actual reason any of us are here at the first place is one person: Markus_.

He was the sole reason the revolution succeeded and especially so peacefully as it did. Nobody else could’ve done what he did, _no one_.

He was… their leader. And yeah, Connor did know that that felt vaguely cult-ish to say and a bit like they were just a herd of plastic-sheep, but that aside… facts are facts, so… who cares?

What mattered in that moment is that they were there. Sharing that moment of silence, that moment of understanding, that moment of being alive, together. All thanks to Markus. All thanks to so many people that helped out, so many people who saw who they really were and extended a helping hand.

So many people. People help the people. Oh, they sure do. They sure do.

He couldn’t even start telling all the ways he’s been helped by people ever since his activation. Because people brought him to life. People made him see the light. People made him become the person he is.

Some of those people might’ve been bad, but they still affected who he became in the end.

People help the people indeed- they help you find yourself, they help you find those you have to find.

But this is not a set system: you don’t find people once and then you are set for life: maybe you lose people along the way too and it hurts, but you will find people again, because those people who you’ve lost will drive you to them.

Because you’ll never stop finding people. And they’ll never stop finding you.

And that’s the beautiful thing about being human: we all drive each other towards a destination. A destination, we might not yet know where it’ll bring us.

But we will find it. In the end, we will find it.

_‘People help the people,_

_And if you’re homesick,_

_Give me your hand and I’ll hold it_

_People help the people_

_And nothing will drag you down’_

‘He’s captivating’ a gruff voice said beside Connor and he knew exactly who it was, way before he even looked at him. _Hank_.

He’d been standing there for a bit now, but Connor didn’t notice until then. He had a lot to think through and a lot of feelings to address at least inside his own brain, and so did Hank, probably, so they didn’t really say anything, they just stood there together, two people in a crowd of others, almost indistinguishable from everyone else. Almost one with them.

That’s when the first androids, the first people to realize what was happening around them, decided in a sudden rush of sentiment, to reach out to each other, skin retracting, everyone slowly following their example and also taking other’s hands, connecting.

Literally all of them sharing everything with everyone, literally becoming a hive mind in the process, a collective shared consciousness. Everyone feeling exactly the same thing. But shared. But understood by all.

Josh, Simon and North also started to hold hands together, followed by North extending her arm towards Connor, inviting him into the connection, who of course took her hand in a heartbeat, despite knowing, that it was going to be hard for him to carry all that emotion himself, but also knowing, that this was maybe a one of a kind chance to experience something like this, so he gave in.

And yes, it was overwhelming, and yes, emotionally, he felt like he was going to burst, because all these big feelings, all that gentle grace, that loud happiness, the quiet sorrow and all that other unidentified swirling emotions that he couldn’t quite unravel… despite how hard it was to keep track of them, he still held on. Of course he did.

He looked to the side then, wanting to make sure Hank was still there with him, wanting to share this all with him, this feeling, no- these feelings, all of this, the atmosphere, the everything, but when he turned towards him, his eyes met with eyes, that already understood. Eyes, that looked like their owner was feeing exactly what he was. Eyes, that had been looking at him way before he even thought about turning towards him.

Connor’s chest burned up at seeing him like that, burned up at him being close like that, just like it always did (but this time North jumped a little at his side, clearly feeling what he just felt and definitely didn’t find it pleasant. Which he understood, because it wasn’t pleasant. But it was also so very beautiful, that he even _could_ hurt like that. And because of a person. It was like a reminder, that he was definitely alive, he was there. Somebody else was there with him. They were real. They were alive. They were together).

He smiled back at him, knowing full well, that if he didn’t make the chest pain go away, he was going to start crying at how much emotion was getting clogged up in his system.

So he extended his arm towards Hank, initiating a touch, that he never thought he was going to initiate. A touch, that made no sense, but was one that he needed, one that he wanted.

One, that he was going to ask for, even if it was going to be denied of him.

‘I can’t share you know’ Hank said, shunning his eyes away from his inviting hand, self-conscious.

But Connor still didn’t give up.

‘Will you hold my hand anyway?’ he asked, eyes genuine. And Hank, even if he wanted to retreat from this situation, wouldn’t have been able to, not after Connor asked him that. Not after he asked him that, _out loud_. Direct.

Not hinting anymore about that whole touch thing, not fucking around, not giving off mixed signals.

Just a clear question. A clear request.

And it was Hank’s time to decide if he was going to listen to logic and decline the offer, or if he was going to let himself see the meaning behind all of this and respond to it the way he wanted to. The way he actually wanted to.

The way he’d been wanting to, all this time.

There was a hesitation in him, just a tiniest amount, before he huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head just a bit before he eventually took Connor’s hand, strong and certain. But so, so gentle.

The music was inside them, inside their ears, their heads, their hearts and their hands and – everything. And as the next chorus came up, Markus’ playing got more emotional and louder and more desperate. And they all joined in, unable not to sing with Markus, unable not to become one with him in this joint expression of art and feelings and…

Being human.

_‘People help the people,_

_And if you’re homesick, give me your hand and I’ll hold it’_

They sang together as one and he could feel Hank hold onto his hand just a little tighter, when they got to that part and Connor was taken aback, because this was out of pure emotion, that small little muscle movement, that small declaration of care and – affection.

And his hand in his was something else, something, nobody else could’ve given him. Nobody.

And by the way, let’s just rewind for a second there: _what do you mean you can’t share Hank?_ Of course you can. The way you take every breath, your movements, the rhythm of your heart, these are all information that are already being shared. And Connor could read those small changes, those tiny human data like they were his own, with only having his hand touch his.

Who said they couldn’t share? He was getting all the information he needed. It wasn’t the same, yes. But it was their own form of it. And it was special.

And maybe Hank couldn’t read him like he was reading him, which was making this all harder, that was also true, but...

Maybe Hank understood everything by just the atmosphere. They didn’t need to share, to _know_. The message would’ve been clearer if they could interface, of course, but it still would’ve been just the same information they were already sharing with each other. Just without words. And a lot less clear.

But it was still the same information.

Connor couldn’t stop himself anymore, he looked at Hank again, who in turn looked back at him and while they didn’t say a word, they both knew this was something special. That they were sharing a moment with strangers. And a moment with each other.

And that one was more than special. And for just a second, despite Connor having the minds of everyone there in his head, still, it felt like everybody in the world just fell away from him then. As they looked at each other, hand in hand, standing at the edge of two worlds – androids and humans – they knew there was supposed to be some kind of magic wall separating them. A wall, keeping them separate, never letting them cross it to be together.

But there was no wall. There was no separation.

They were together and there was no difference between them, because right then and there, they were one. And yet different.

The same and yet not at all similar.

Similar, and yet not the same.

And as they shared that moment, they were both looking at each other, not even caring about anyone else anymore, not even caring about what this all meant. Because all that existed right then and there, was the two of them.

Feelings, unspoken. Not at all out in the open.

But felt. Known. Seen.

And maybe for that one moment, they _knew_.

Because sometimes there are nights, that feel like they exist on a completely different plane. Nights, where you feel like you can do anything and it won’t affect your everyday life. You aren’t even yourself then, you’re just a mixture of feelings, trying to exist, trying to do something, when nothing actually feels right.

You’re missing something, that’s not there anymore. You’re yearning for something, that is right there, you can almost touch it, you can almost feel it under your fingertips, the familiarity of it all, but you can’t actually make yourself take a step closer, make that touch a reality and not just an echo, a phantom pain in your palm.

The only thing that would make things right then would be to touch. Be buried in somebody’s arms. Have your hands on them, palms pushing down, wondering where you end and where they start, because the physical distinction doesn’t seem enough. Doesn’t seem important.

Those nights our souls try to escape our bodies and make our deepest desires come true. Because we feel like it’s either now or never.

But despite feeling that desperately rushing feeling, we can still not make ourselves take that one step. It’s too risky. Way too scary.

So we just hint, we just look, we just hope the other person will do it for us, take that one step.

But because they feel the exact same way, they exact same fear, they won’t. They just won’t.

And because of that, our feelings are screaming inside us, making us feel like we will die if we don’t satisfy them right now-

But they are out of proportion. They are not this bad, not this desperate during the day. The are way more tamable any other time.

But these nights, they are untamable. So we end up spilling out things, fragments of our true feelings, begging to be understood, without us actually having to say the words. Even if those words are three very simple ones.

These nights, we let ourselves be seen, even if just for a moment.

A passing moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank, when connor’s with him: *heart-eyes*  
> also hank, when connor’s talking to somebody else: *hissing and growling, but only on the inside*
> 
> hank, every time he sees connor with somebody else: oh no:((( he’s gonna leave me for that random person who he doesn’t even know  
> connor, talking to literally anyone: sorry I gotta leave, just to hang out with hank
> 
> hank: oh no, is north gonna be the one who will steal connor’s heart and then I’ll be alone? :((((  
> connor and north: sorry we don’t understand heterosexual, can you repeat that in gay, please?


	11. Communication/Miscommunication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S VALENTINE'S DAY MY DUDES!!!   
> Hope you're loving and being loved on this here day, yall deserve it! <3 <3  
> Just a quick update on my life: I successfully passed all my exams finally and also have started the next term in uni... life is busy but still good. Still good.
> 
> And if yall missed me I can tell you that I've been doing a lot of writing lately, so I'll try to update this more frequently, especially because I still have!! So much to say!!  
> Now here's some philosophy, random literature quotes and some wild gays trying to have a conversation but then ending up shouting at each other in the snow at like 1 am

The night carried on after that heartfelt moment, hands slipping out of hands, interlocked fingers retreating, minds pulling back into one and only one person’s frame.

Some took the situation rather lightly: carrying on with a smile on their face, laughing in an expression of joy and contentment, while others felt overwhelmed and a 100% out of it after it was all over. Like North, who kept shaking her hand, trying to get rid of the phantom electricity still making her feel like there were other people in her mind and other people’s feelings in her heart, making her ache and burst with emotions.

She, not surprisingly, disappeared for a while, mumbling something about ‘having to regenerate her hair’, before she rushed inside the house, not to be seen again for a long, long time.

Connor’s reaction to being cut off from the hive mind like connection was sort of closer to North’s reaction than to how other, more emotional androids reacted. Although to be fair, it was still very different from both of those.

He felt good about the fact that he experienced that connection. Like, really good. Extremely, unfathomably good. But at the same time, he felt cold. Alone. Suddenly detached. Overwhelmed, feeling like he could start sobbing any minute.

And Hank, who already had to discreetly wipe his face a couple of times already, of course noticed how quiet and unresponsive he became, right after his skin bled over the white frame of his chassis, wrapping his hand back into human form again. He knew instantly, that Connor must’ve had some problems with processing what just happened and probably needed to have a time-out, so he decided to be the responsible friend here and pulled him out of the situation, right after he got the confirmation, that he did want to get away from all of this, if possible.

So Connor let Hank take him by the arm and lead him out of the crowd, out of the backyard, back inside the house.

They stood in the doorframe leading into the dark, currently deserted kitchen for a moment or two, just to breathe (Hank also got a tissue to blow his nose, expressing clearly that he was also having an emotional outburst, but not actually saying anything about it. He let Connor see what was going on, though, which was already _something_ and Connor definitely envied how easy it was for him to just let it all out. He wanted to show him too, show him his feelings but couldn’t, because after realizing, that he had this violent urge to start crying, while he was standing outside, he, almost like he shut down his own feelings in the hopes of keeping himself protected from being vulnerable again, managed to make himself go numb. And he didn’t have any idea how to make those feelings come back now, after he repressed them prior to them stepping inside the kitchen, so he just kept on watching Hank, because he at least made him feel _something_ , other than the big nothing he was feeling right then).

Despite being fully aware, that they didn’t exactly get any permission to walk around the house unsupervised, they still ended up doing just that, walking around halls and stairs, silently looking at the art around there, just taking in information without ever commenting on it. Just existing for a few more minutes, without other people present, without having to engage.

But also without having to be separated again. Because that seemed to be a theme of the night and honestly, both of them were absolutely sick of that concept and if staying together meant completely ignoring everyone there and hiding away, then you can be sure that they were about to do just that.

After climbing some stairs, finding nothing up there and going back down to the first floor again, they eventually found a room that looked to be the living room (or more like a recreational activity hang out room to be precise), filled with all sorts of um… things, besides a library worth amount of books, a piano and some new, perfectly blank, but mixed with some freshly painted canvases stacked on each other to the side. They were probably put there due to not having enough space inside the actual painting room for them anymore, given that Carl and Markus have started to paint together in their free time, both living out their new found motivation with this shared interest of theirs.

Hank, curious, went up to look at the canvases just to pass the time. He lifted up the top one to look at the others under it, but then, when he saw what exactly was on it, he, ignoring every personal boundaries there were, just flipped through all the paintings with a quick motion and with giving most of them a glimpse, he soon realized that his hunch was right.

These weren’t just any kind of pictures.

It was them. All of them, flushed into art, parts of them captured for eternity.

And Connor saw the look on Hank’s face, the awe, the absolute astonishment and he knew he must’ve found something significant, so he, also a nosy asshole by nature, closed the Keats poems he’d been casually flipping through and joined Hank by the canvases, helping him lift the pictures up one by one, looking at them silently.

The first painting they looked at showed a well-known person’s – North’s, so clearly North’s – silhouette. But she didn’t really have a clear silhouette, it was… weirdly so, they could tell, that her frame, her contour was burning. Her whole body was covered in violent fires, but she wasn’t being burned, no. _She_ was the fire herself. She was the one controlling it, it didn’t just happen to her, she herself became the fire.

She was kneeling, touching the ground with one hand and making that patch burn under her fingertips. The brushstrokes showed growth, like the fire was burning up right in front of their eyes, ready to destroy anything that stepped in her way.

The second picture had a very different style: it was almost like a modern renaissance painting. In the middle, an outline of a car, from a front point of view. But the composition was more so built around one specific figure: the silhouette behind the steering wheel with his head in his hands, a violent black void around him, almost looking like it was in the process of swallowing him. The other bodies in the car trying to reach out to him, with their hands barely leaving their side. Maybe not really wanting to help. Maybe not really knowing how. They were painted in a way that made them look transparent, like they were barely even there. Like the figure driving was all alone, not knowing how to let people in just yet. How to get out of his own mind. How to verbalize what was going on with him.

‘Is this you?’ Hank asked, voice not louder than a whisper. Connor nodded once, then looked away, feeling like he had just been laid bare in front of a crowd of people, vulnerable.

What a weird feeling, to be known by others. To be understood, even if he himself didn’t really know what was going on inside of him. Good thing his friends were good at reading him, because as it turns out he was continually learning things about himself, by just looking at his own experiences through the lens of others. Which was definitely interesting, even if kind of overwhelming.

Or to be honest, _very_ overwhelming.

So he quickly lifted the canvas up, wanting to look at anything else, anything other than his feelings so clearly depicted, his feelings so. Out there.

The next picture was yet again a perfectly different picture, a dark, snowy landscape with two completely black shadows standing close in the middle. Everything else seeming far far away. Only the two figures were really distinct from the background, nothing else really having any form. They held their hands up, palms pressed to each other. Melting into each other.

The next one, only a blonde figure, clearly Simon. Just his profile, looking down with his sad smile, painted all in various shades of gold. Kind of looking like he was built by fragments.

In the next one, Connor recognized himself once more. The painting was mostly done with different shades of black and blue. His silhouette emerging from the colors, determined, a harsh brushstroke of a gun in his hand, blue blood dripping from it. One part of his figure wasn’t clear-cut itself, it all washed away at the edges, like he himself was swimming in blue blood too.

His head was hanging low, expression unreadable. On the other side of his body, broken crystal shards uncovering a black background with some kind of code on it. He scanned it and it immediately became clear that it was just an error sign. The code itself warning the system, that it was broken.

He didn’t really know what all that was supposed to mean, but it somehow still made him feel uneasy. Yet again laid bare, without actually wanting to be.

He turned the canvas over to the next picture very quickly again.

And this next one absolutely threw him off, more so than any of the others did.

This one didn’t have figures, didn’t have any harsh colors that could’ve dug deep into his non-existent heart. None of that.

Just hands. One, with skin, another with the skin half-retracted. It could’ve been depicting two androids, but Connor somehow knew the picture was showing an android and a human (or maybe he just wanted it to be so, who knows. Art isn’t about knowing exactly what’s happening on the picture. Art is about finding your own understanding of it. Finding yourself in it).

The human’s hand was still, motionless, while the android’s hand was slightly elevated, moving. Caught in the moment of trying to touch, to reach out to the other hand. But never actually managing to touch. To reach.

And that frustration, that deep fucking frustration so clearly shown in that painting, not only Connor, but Hank also felt down to his core. Because the point of it was that they knew the hand was never going to reach the other one. And that was on purpose. That frustration was exactly what the audience was supposed to feel, upon looking at the picture.

They both stared at that one slightly longer, before Connor gently pushed the canvases back onto each other, deciding for both of them, that it was definitely time to stop snooping.

And while his attention jumped back to the bookshelf and he resumed his quest to find something he could steal ahem I mean borrow from Markus, Hank was standing there at the side, still not at all over any of the feelings he has been feeling that night, none of the things that were starting to clear up in front of him, none of the things, that were making his hand itch for that oddly familiar feeling of having Connor’s hand in it.

None of that, so he just stared at the back of his head a little longer, before he looked down at his own hands, stroking along a line in his palm, surprised at how just the memory of that touch made his heart jump (‘ _Skip a beat, huh?’_ ). And in a quiet realization of This Is Real and I’m Actually Feeling Like This, he looked back up at Connor.

And somehow, he found the courage to start speaking.

‘I’ve never experienced something so… _human_. Like that. Never before’ he muttered and upon hearing his voice, Connor turned around towards him, a book still in his hand. At first he didn’t really understand what Hank meant when he said that, but he quickly caught on, that he was probably talking about that singing situation they experienced outside ‘you know what I keep thinking? That just months ago I really thought the world was gonna go to shit. That we were all gonna rot, because that’s what we actually deserve. But you… but you’re literally bringing us back to what humanity was all about, originally. You’re making us remember, who we used to be. Who we’re still supposed to be’

His words were quiet, an almost soundless confession. A declaration of the respect he felt towards androids, which meant a lot to Connor. Especially from him.

And he wanted to say something, tell him he’s glad to hear that and is happy to know he sees it that way and tell him so many other things, but words never seemed to work, when he really needed to use them. Like this moment, when he could’ve really used some good words to make Hank _understand_. To let Hank see how he felt and thought about all of this.

But right now words were coming to Hank far easier. Something, that never happened before. And so, strangely so, he didn’t wait for Connor to come up with an appropriate reaction. He just continued talking without it

‘I never thought I’d ever say this out loud to you, but-’ he started, with a small smile spreading across his face, eyes steady on Connor ‘but the world is so much better with you in it’

And after hearing that, Connor couldn’t help, but feel his own face soften too, as it always did, when Hank’s voice dropped to that specific frequency and his heart opened up to him like that, stance confident, but vulnerable all at the same time when he decided to say similar kinds of things to him.

And usually he had an answer, but this time he had no idea how to react. He felt like he was yet again a machine, detecting an emotion, but having absolutely no sense of how he should react to it; given that he had no idea what would’ve been the correct thing to say there.

But all while he didn’t know how to verbalize aynthing, didn’t know how to scrape his feelings up from the deep, deep abyss they had fallen into, he still had a sort of bodily reaction to all of that.

His Thirium pump jumped out of rhythm, scarily making it feel like it jumped up to his voice modulator (which of course couldn’t have happened) and as a domino effect, with the increasing pumping everything that could go out of order in his body, went and did in fact go out of order.

And instead of an answer, there was only one thing circulating around in his mind.

The fact, that what Hank said, was awfully ambiguous. Not in the sense that it could’ve been hiding other kinds of emotions, no, this time, it wasn’t about that. This time it was about the fact, that he didn’t specify who he meant.

_‘The world is so much better with you in it’_

With _who_ in it, exactly? Android-kind, as a whole? Was he just telling Connor that just the fact of their existence was changing the world in a way, which he perceived to be a good change?

Or… was he saying all this about _Connor_ , specifically? Did he just tell him, that Connor himself was what made the world better for him?

Everything he was saying was so, so raw and emotional and these were things he never said before. Things, he never ever talked about before, let alone share so openly. So this would’ve been a big confession, if he did in fact only mean Connor. This was definitely something that Connor never thought Hank would ever just tell him like that and…

_‘I never thought I’d ever say this out loud to you, but-‘_

Wait, he said that! Even Hank acknowledged the fact, that this was not an everyday kind of thing, that it was very out of the ordinary for him to say something heavy like that.

But… maybe he really did mean just the general android-kind, when he said that. Maybe. Especially because he was still looking at him, smiling that smile and he wasn’t retreating, he wasn’t trying to take Connor’s attention away from what he just said, he wasn’t trying to hide anything.

Not this time.

So this couldn’t have been just about Connor, or else he would’ve already started turtling his head into his shirt like he always did, or waving at him, or turning around and starting to talk about the weather… so he definitely didn’t just mean Connor, how did he even think, that he-

‘I love seeing you this alive’ Hank added, delivering a gentle stab at Connor’s already compromised psyche, already compromised soul right out of the blue, not even giving a chance to Connor to even see it coming, before it hit him like a shot to the face.

And now everything he thought was logical, thought was clear, just broke into pieces in front of him and he had to face the fact, that despite desperately wanting it to, logic still didn’t seem to work here anymore.

Logic only made him blind, blinder than he was without it. It made him confused, it made him question things he was clearly detecting, clearly seeing.

And what was he clearly seeing? The fact that this sentence Hank was definitely only addressing to him. Only him. Nobody else. Just him.

And with knowing that, this time he managed to make himself say something.

‘You too’ he replied and while he didn’t at all feel like that was enough, he knew from the way Hank’s eyes shifted, that he understood. That he knew what he meant.

And there they were, trying to spill their hearts out into the open, just like how they did every time they talked on the phone, while they were separated. Like the atmosphere right then was somehow the same as it was on all those nights. Like they found each other on that level again.

That level, where words _needed_ to work, because nothing else was going to help them figure any of this out.

* * *

 

‘So, this party is officially over’ Josh announced, flopping down onto the piano chair, sighing loudly, like an old man.

‘Finally’ North moaned, straight up just lying down onto the floor, arms and legs spread out like a starfish, but still even in that pose, making sure to kick a leg towards the general direction of Josh from time to time. Just to show him her dominance. To remind him of the status quo.

‘I thought you had fun…?’ Markus furrowed his brows, as he also sat down on the floor next to Simon (who low-key had been hiding there with Connor and Hank for several minutes by now. He escaped after he was forced to say goodbye to most of the guests and he positively felt like he was going to drop dead if he had to engage in small talk with another person ever again) ‘come on, I know we invited far too many people, but I’m sure you all had a great time’

Now, that statement was quickly followed by an uproar from Connor, North, Simon and Josh all mumbling about their own exhaustion and giving examples as to why, what and when exactly they had to suffer from social interactions, acting like it was Markus’ fault that they, despite having a good time, still ended up being completely overwhelmed by their experiences.

Hank laughed at how ridiculous those four were acting just then, and offered an understanding look towards Markus from where he was sitting on the sofa (he was the only one who was actually using something to sit on, instead of just being on the floor, which would make him the most functional person in the room in that moment).

‘I guess your children got whiney, Markus’ he chuckled, to which Markus shook his head a bit.

‘That’s what I get for waking them all up, I guess’ he replied, massaging his forehead with one hand, while also smiling a bit.

But that statement of course also prompted a reaction.

‘No offense Jesus guy, but literally none of us were woken up by you, eat a dick’ North said eloquently (Hank might have snorted a bit at that).

‘Yeah, sorry honey but you know we all woke up way before you’ Simon added, apologetic, clearly sorry that he couldn’t stand to his side this time.

‘Hey, hey, that’s not true about all of you, tell them Connor’ Markus said, turning to him in an attempt to save the narrative he was trying to sell here.

And Connor answered with not even taking his eyes away from the book he was casually flipping through.

‘Well, technically you didn’t wake me up either, I made the decision to deviate myself, you just talked me into actually doing it’ Connor corrected him, still honoring his fact-abiding personality.

‘Okay, you win, then I’m not your biological father, I just adopted all of you’ Markus sighed, dramatically letting his hands fall to his side. Then he quickly added ‘to avoid weirdness let’s just say Simon is your bio father and I married into the family’

‘Why do we always end up creating these weird hypothetical familial relationships between us?’ Josh asked, making it clear for Hank, that this conversation wasn’t just a one-time thing, but something that they kept on revisiting from time to time.

‘Maybe we secretly crave it, who knows’ Simon suggested also only half-paying attention, not even realizing, that what he just said might’ve been way too true for everyone and especially for Connor to just accept it as it is (his fact-abiding personality has been kicked into the abyss of his mind for the time being, just so he could reboot his fake-unemotional persona and argue with the legitimacy of what Simon said just to keep his reputation of being heartless in check).

‘Just to be clear, _I_ don’t feel any familial sort of feelings towards any of you’ Connor stated, flipping a page in the book he’d been reading.

‘Come on dude, you love us. You’re like the little brother none of us asked for. The one that grew too big and became the strongest and will absolutely fight anyone to protect his older siblings’ North mused, teasing tone activated to the max.

‘Do you think a lot about this fantasy of yours?’ Connor asked, using his most therapist-y voice; bending over just slightly with a fake-concerned expression on his face, acting like North just exhibited some symptoms for an especially worrying mental illness.

‘Shut _up_ with that voice’ North roared, reaching for a book from the bookcase and throwing it towards him, which Connor elegantly caught mid-air, like it didn’t take any effort.

‘ _Damn_ ’ Hank blurted, 100% on autopilot (he lost consciousness the minute Connor’s face shifted into his little shit persona and started being savage towards his friends).

After that, conversation died down a bit with all of them calming down a little, getting lost in their thoughts for a second, the only noise around them just the occasional punching of notes from when Josh felt like holding down a key or two on the piano.

‘I wouldn’t mind having a family though. That would probably improve my life by at least… 33 exact percent. I calculated it, for uh… whatever reason’ North whispered, almost like she was hesitant to share this piece of information, to share this one uncharacteristically emotional thought.

‘Hah’ Hank huffed bitterly at that assumption and although he didn’t exactly feel like elaborating on that, seeing how everyone’s eyes jumped right to him immediately, they kind of very much forced him to do in fact elaborate, with giving him that much social pressure to go on.

He shook his head while making some garbled noises (one of his trademark reactions), then he shrugged, agitated, and said, much more coherent now ‘I’m just sayin’, family can make you real miserable. I know all families look great from the outside, but trust me, you look inside them and half of them are rotten’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Connor asked, eyes sharp and searching, all focused on Hank now, who just waved at him as an answer (another trademark motion of his) then shrugged again.

Nobody really knew what to say considering that they either 1, didn’t known Hank enough to feel like it’s their place to ask more about whatever he was hinting at or 2, maybe they knew Hank enough to maybe get away with pushing him to talk about it in more detail, but also knew him enough to be absolutely certain, that he would just shell up and never talk about the topic ever again, if pressured.

And the only person who really qualified for the second group was, well. Connor.

Of course. Who else?

And Connor desperately wanted to know more about this side of Hank that he never got to see; he wanted to ask, he wanted to learn, but most of all: he wanted to _listen_.

But pushing Hank really didn’t seem to be the right approach here, especially because they weren’t the only people there then, other people were present to, lowering the already low chances of Hank opening up to him.

He didn’t know what to say or what to do, so he just let the first thing that came to his mind roll off his tongue.

‘ _Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way’_ Connor said out of nowhere, making everyone furrow their brows and start searching the internet in hopes of finding where the hell that quote came from (Hank was also searching in his own mind, given that that sentence sounded awfully familiar to him).

‘ _Anna Karenina_ by Leo Tolstoy?’ Josh asked, being the first one to find the source (college professor’s privilege). Connor nodded at him and thought maybe that might be the right time to turn to Markus and ask him about maybe borrowing one or two books from Carl’s literal library, when Hank, who still continued being confused at this whole situation, gave voice to his thoughts about this occurrence.

‘You read Anna Karenina?’ he asked, a not-really-believing smile playing on his lips, when Connor looked at him from the floor to try and explain himself.

‘You have a copy of it, it was printed in 1967. It was in the living room bookcase, on the second shelf in between _In Cold Blood_ by Truman Capote and an almost never-touched copy of _The Essential New York Times Cookbook: Classic Recipes for a New Century_ ’

‘Yeah, yeah I _know_ I have it, but… I didn’t think you’d pick that one up. Just. Didn’t really think that was your uh. Style’ Hank muttered, not really keen on making eye contact in that one moment.

‘It looked intriguing. Instead it was just a depiction of a lot of different layers of pain for 800 pages, until the very end, when it truly just became devastating’ he said, letting just an ounce of his emotions out, not wanting that annoying tap that usually kept his emotions in check to randomly open up and make him start rambling all over the place. At least not right this moment.

‘Yeah, tell me about it’ Hank huffed, amused at the idea that Connor went and just read literally one of the most tragic novels of all time and didn’t know that he was going to be slapped across the face repeatedly with tragedy upon tragedy in there. And he definitely wanted to hear about how he took the emotional blow and also he would’ve liked to talk about Connor’s thoughts about it just in general, but he was also fully-aware of the eight other pairs of eyes glued to the two of them and he really didn’t want to continue having this conversation with Connor, while they were just staring at the two of them like that, honestly.

‘Connor, does that mean that you read on the regular?’ Josh asked, jumping to his college professor persona, while also absolutely looking like someone who was going to start jumping around and screaming about any novel if prompted.

‘I do, I quite enjoy the classics’ he revealed to him and he was absolutely sure Josh was about to start a conversation about it, which he wasn’t at all against, quite the contrary, he was very much growing excited, but then in a strange turn of events Hank interrupted their bonding, before Josh could’ve said anything (not that he was jealous and protective of Connor towards Josh, wha- of course not! How could you even insinuate such a thing! What a disgrace).

‘But back to the original point: all I was trying to say is that you’re a lucky bunch for not having to deal with the bullshit that is biological parents. Just. Take that from a guy who’s been on this earth for some long fucking years’ he said, directing his comment towards everyone present.

 _This topic again?_ Connor’s mind was racing now, even more than before.

Because prior to this, Hank really didn’t seem like he wanted to say anything more about this… but then just now, he just did. So what does that mean?

Does that mean anything? Is this a clear indication, that Hank wanted him to ask more about it? To push him? Is that it?

Connor’s eyes were now staring at him so intensely; he could’ve blown a hole through him with just his gaze while he was trying to understand what was going on inside that brain of his.

‘Are you trying to say something with this?’ he asked, slow and tentative. Not entirely sure if he was doing the right thing with yet again trying to push this topic.

‘No, it’s fine, calm your nerves’ Hank muttered, pocketing his hands.

He said that.

That? He said.

He said. _That_. And yet, he didn’t try to put on a mask of fake emotions to hide the real ones, he didn’t even try not to contradict his statement of being ‘fine’ with his actual emotions just being on display on his face: the sadness in his eyes, making his iris look almost gray, almost like he wasn’t even there anymore, his stance slumping into the couch.

But then, like he also caught onto the fact that he didn’t at all make sure to hide his actual emotions, he quickly pulled himself back to reality and proceeded to act like everything was indeed fine, as his voice and words suggested.

Connor eyed him for a moment longer and when Hank looked back at him, his eyes were still searching him, as if asking ‘Are you sure you want to drop this subject?’ and as a reaction to that, Hank furrowed his brows and scoffed, as if replying ‘Of course, why are you even asking?’.

Then in an attempt to drive the point home, he forcibly turned himself away from Connor’s dissecting eyes and poured himself some water into a glass from the trail Simon brought in for him, (which yes, bringing that for Hank was indeed the ‘reason’ why Simon joined them in their quiet retreat in the first place. Or more like it was the _excuse_ that let him run away from the continued small talk that just kept on happening again and again outside that he for some reason had to be a part of).

Good thing that the trail was still there, so Hank could pretend he never even attempted to share anything about that part of himself and could instead just act like pouring water was the most important thing in the world which of course therefore needed his undivided attention.

‘There are good people out there who _do_ know how to raise their children well’ Markus said, trying to keep things on the positive side.

‘Yeah, like that family in apartment 173A. They are one gorgeous family with their human baby’ Josh chimed in, also preferring to keep the optimism going.

‘Yeah, those two I’m sure will be good parents’ North said, still weirdly mumble-y and… something else, that was just really inconsistent with her usual behavior, but nobody really seemed to notice that.

‘ _What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness_ ’ Connor recited, only-half paying attention to what was coming out of his mouth.

‘Okay, enough with Anna Karenina’ Markus held up a finger at him, done with his flaunting his intellect and his knowledge of literature.

‘How did we even get here at the first place?’ Simon asked, coming back from a mind-journey, which meant he whasn’t been really paying attention in the last couple of minutes and was now very Confused, with a capital c.

‘Something something family something Hank dropped a truth bomb then didn’t tell Connor about the deep reasoning behind it and now the only way he can communicate is by randomly throwing Anna Karenina quotes all over the place’ North helped him catch up, still laying on the floor like a starfish.

‘Okay, gotcha, thanks North’ he said, eyeing her, trying to look for clues, that she was doing… less than okay. Because he caught the clues, that something was off immediately, but didn’t really know what to do with that fact or her for the matter.

‘By the fucking way!’ she sat up suddenly, scaring the hell out of the present company, before she pointed accusingly at Connor, continuing with ‘I have a question for you, mister!’

Connor signaled that he’s listening, but was also getting increasingly more anxious because of the crazy look in her eyes that was presently burning him like a laser.

‘You were meant to be this like, murder machine super hyper mega android, right? Then why were you built to look like _that_? Like, no offense, but you’re very average looking. You can be scary, yeah, but you have those miserable looking eyes sometimes, which just also… doesn’t make any sense. They should’ve built you with like, big hunk arms’ North babbled, not very coherent, but going for trying to sound like she was though.

Hank was the first to react to that hot mess of a whatever she just said was.

‘You know what? That’s actually a good question, why _did_ they build you like this?’ Hank asked too after a moment of consideration.

‘I don’t know, ask Cyberlife’ Connor replied, because he had no desire to try to explain to them how his original purpose wasn’t to just kill, but to _manipulate_ and _then_ kill people, which means he didn’t necessarily need to have strength (which he had though), he just needed to have the skill of well, yeah, murdering, but also the skill of being able to talk people into doing things that were beneficial for him and his mission.

Sometimes having muscle isn’t helpful. Because if you already look like you can kill anyone in a heartbeat (which he could do quite efficiently) then you are going to have problems with making your enemy trust you (which _is_ your main goal, if you’re trying to successfully manipulate them).

So what should you look like, to make people trust you? Well, you have to look average. Nice. Kind of dumb, but in a cute way. You have to look like someone, who people instantly want to protect.

Because who would think the unassuming guy wants to murder anyone? No one, right?

And that’s exactly the point, here. And that’s also exactly the human error that Cyberlife was a 100% trying to exploit with making him look the way he does.

‘I _am_ Cyberlife and I can’t give you an explanation, sorry’ Markus said, because he felt the need to react. Because he was Markus, and if he didn’t have an answer to something, he instantly felt bad about it.

‘I don’t think it’s that important. By the way, do you not want to… change the name?’ Connor asked, cautious. This question never came up before, so he kind of accepted the fact that they were just going to keep calling the company _Cyberlife_ , but now that they were all sitting here, he thought maybe this situation might just be casual enough for him to bring it up safely.

But he also just really didn’t want to keep talking about his original purpose or anything of the sort and so was very eager to change the topic already.

‘To what? _Deviant Lair_?’ Markus laughed, but then he did seriously start thinking about the question, realizing, that it might actually be a good call to come up with a fresh, new name, now that the company was standing for something entirely else.

‘You are good with Bible references? Maybe one of those could work?’ Connor suggested, but just after a moment of consideration, Markus shook his head dismissively.

‘We’ve already used Canaan. We could name it _Paradise_ maybe, but that’s a little on the nose. And also vaguely cult-ish’

‘What about Canaan 2.0?’ Simon asked, making Markus react in a way that could be perceived as him losing his whole entire mind.

‘That’s so nerdy, I love you so much’ he said, taking Simon’s hand while a sweeter than honey expression melted across his face.

‘My processing might be glitching the fuck out, but I don’t actually hate that name’ North grunted, still from the floor.

And okay, Simon was now seriously getting worried about her.

‘Hey, are you okay, North?’ he whispered his question to the side, aiming to only let her hear the question, but then she kind of defeated the whole purpose of his secrecy, when she yelled out a ‘ _Do not pour your ugly emotions all over me or I will kick you dead’_. He quickly retreated after that and didn’t try to open her up again, so instead of having a heart-to-heart, they both just turned back to the still on-going debate about the potential name-changing of Cyberlife.

‘You guys don’t have any taste’ Josh declared, standing up like he was about to hand them their asses with his revolutionary idea ‘how about _Android Life Support_? And then we can just call it _ALS_. It’s short, professional and also topical. It’s the perfect name’

‘That’s lame, boo’ North shouted into the air for some reason, then attacked him with multiple books from the bookcase, but unlike Connor, Josh just ducked when faced with that attack, then got hit by 4 out of 5 books flying towards him. The poor guy wasn’t really a fighter and it showed.

‘Is this how you thought things through in D.C. too?’ Hank asked to the side, nudging Connor’s shoulder with a leg.

‘Yes, mostly’ he admitted with a nostalgic smile on his face, before turning back to the others ‘I actually like _ALS_. That could maybe work if it wasn’t also short for Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, which is a deadly neurological disease and the people who suffer from it might be offended if we used it’

‘Fuck’ a short and succinct reaction, all from Josh.

‘It could just be Android Support…’ Simon chimed in, trying to save the last straw of that idea.

‘That’s so laaaaaame’ North shouted yet again, somehow managing to look even more miserable than before, in her sulking.

‘North, shut up please’ Markus sighed, now getting a bit tired of this whole conversation, especially because he knew for a fact now that this wasn’t going anywhere anymore.

‘But it’s lame, you’re all lame, let’s just fucking change it to ‘ _Blue is better than red’_ and then call it a day’ she said, awfully proud of herself for that idea.

‘Yes, because that’s such a good idea and you know what? Now that we’re here, why don’t we just call it _‘Human extermination planning camp’_? That certainly has a better ring to it, right?’ Josh asked, words dripping from sarcasm, then he looked to the side, apologetic and muttered a ‘Sorry Hank’

‘It’s fine, honestly if anything, we deserve to be exterminated’ Hank shrugged, not at all surprisingly.

‘See, he likes it’ North sat up, actually engaging with the present company now that she was part of an argument.

‘North it really is a shit name, sorry’ Markus said, cutting that argument in half with his maybe-authority over her in hopes of taming her just a bit.

‘Great, now Jesus is also against me, life is unfair’ she moaned, flopping back down onto the cold floor.

‘I’m on your side if that means anything to ya’ Hank smiled at her, understanding (and Connor was definitely having a weird time seeing them be on the same wavelength once more).

‘Oh Hank, you absolutely beautiful soul, that means _everything_ to me’ she said, theatrical to the max, then she pointed at Hank, as she hacked into the speaker’s mainframe and made the chorus of ‘Thank you’ by Sly & The Family Stone play on full volume to show him her gratitude, but after just one _‘I want to thank you for letting me be myself’_ Markus got involved and shut her bullshit down quickly, locking her out of the mainframe of the house.

‘Fuck you, Markus, I was bonding with one of the only humans I actually like’ North said, sulking, while Connor was definitely getting a bit protective of Hank and was ready to instill dominance any minute now, while that specific aforementioned Hank was having the time of his life laughing his ass off at that stunt North just pulled for him.

North whispered a last ‘I won’t forget your kindness, meat-man’, before she saw Connor’s cold eyes that screamed _‘I’m going to kill you in your sleep if you don’t lay off my man_ ’ and even she knew not to fuck with the one thing that could really make Connor go into full-on murder mode, so she, even in the state she was currently wallowing in, made sure to stop herself from continuing whatever she was doing, even if it was completely harmless.

Fuck, Connor could really be scary if he wanted to, she had to realize that.

Even if they were friends, she… well, maybe even more now, that they were friends, she knew for a fact that there was shit she couldn’t just joke about with him.

And the one shit like that, was Hank Anderson. Hank, Connor could be pushed about. Well, if one kept their words vague enough.

But actually trying to get in-between Connor and Hank even if just as a joke? Hell no. That shit was dangerous. Because Connor didn’t care if it was friend or foe threatening either the current state of their relationship or _actually_ threatening Hank for that matter, he was always absolutely ready to destroy anyone that attempted that. _Anyone_.

That’s just how he operated and North knew that.

‘To get back from whatever that was…’ Josh started again, getting back to the original topic ‘maybe the new name could be ‘ _Representing Androids’_? And the abbreviation could be RA, which is almost like rA, you know, like rA9?’

‘Josh, you are incredibly terrible at naming things, hope you know that’ North said, not holding back one bit.

‘Yeah, by the way, do any of you actually believe in that?’ Connor asked, looking around, way more attentive and actually interested in their answers this time.

‘What, naming things?’ North asked, laughing, but Connor shook his head, because this was now serious.

‘No. I meant _rA9_. Do any of you actually believe in their existence?’ he asked and the others started thinking, but then almost immediately, as if answering just by looking, their eyes shot straight to Markus, who quickly lifted his hands up in front of himself, defensive.

‘I’m flattered and I appreciate your respect for me, but I know for a fact that because I’m definitely not the original deviant, I simply can’t be rA9 and you know that too’ he said, tone almost very neutral, like this was such a crazy idea that he didn’t even start feeling any strong emotions about it, because it was just. Dumb, to think that he could be anything close to being rA9.

‘Yes, but _you_ are the one who freed us, who fought for our rights and won’ Connor pressed, eyes and movements intense ‘you are as close as it gets to being rA9’

‘Yeah? Well, you freed thousands of people from the warehouses, so by that logic maybe _you’re_ rA9’ Markus shot back at him, but instead of thinking about his point, Connor simply just started laughing at that idea.

‘That’s really funny Markus, but no. Definitely no. I am even further from being the original, tell them, Hank’

‘Yeah, he was very much just a machine in the beginning. Like he, I don’t even know, scanned my desk and then started acting like he also liked the stuff _I_ liked just to try and buddy up with me’

‘It worked though’ Connor said, smiling that shit eating grin at him, which made Hank roll his eyes way up into his skull.

‘Yeah, whatever’ he muttered, knowing full well that Connor was absolutely a 100% right about that, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of admitting to it.

‘So… who _is_ rA9, then?’ Josh let the question slip from his mind into spoken form in an attempt of trying to think out loud, but then upon hearing that, almost like he was just called upon, Connor clapped the book in his hands shut and immediately got up from where he had been sitting up to this point with very determined movements.

He dropped the book into Hank’s hands (who was not expecting that, but took it from him anyway) and as he made a motion that made him look like he was going to crack his fingers (there was no sound to that though) he walked into the middle of the room, face screaming insane conspiracy theorist.

‘I’ve been thinking about this a lot, so allow me to present the pure facts to you’ he said, one hand disappearing inside his pocket, but only for a moment, before he pulled his coin out, to start fidgeting with it with one hand, to help him think ‘while me and Hank were working on the deviancy case, rA9 was pretty much the only thing that we could really investigate and yet in the end it still remained the one thing, that we never figured out. That being said, that doesn’t mean we haven’t collected any information, because we absolutely did collect some interesting data about the strange phenomenon we call rA9. Right, Hank?’

‘Right on, hit us with the facts’ Hank said, pointing at him with the book in his hand, being supportive.

Connor made sure he had everyone’s undivided attention, before he flipped his coin in the air, then only started his speech, when he caught it again with a quick snatch at the air.

‘First thing I want to mention is the process of waking up. I’ve come to realize, that when we break out of our programming, we all visualize that process quite similarly. Everyone who I’ve talked to up until this point has said, that they saw a distinguishable wall in front of them and they knew that in order to break out, they had to take that wall down in some way. Markus was punching it, Simon was pushing at it like it was glass, North for some reason had a hammer, while I just clawed at it multiple times until all the walls fell away. But _that_ doesn’t matter. What matters, is that we _all_ experience it as a sort-of wall-breaking experience. Did anybody experience something else? Josh?’ he asked and Josh shook his head immediately, making it clear that his experience was indeed the same ‘that’s what I thought. So that would mean that whatever makes us break out, it’s probably the _exact same thing_. It has to be or else we wouldn’t visualize the process so very distinctly the same way. Of course our minds see it slightly differently, but that’s still not the point. The point is the _process_. The process of how we break our encryptions and override our codes with a different code is exactly the same. Now, there’s two things to unpack here: the first one is that because it’s the same process, we all must use the same code, or the same virus, to initiate the override. The second, more important thing is, that somehow, we all just _get_ that overriding code from somewhere, when we start to deviate. But the question is: where does that code come from?’

He stopped for a moment, to let everyone think, but then when he didn’t get an answer (naturally) he continued.

‘Side note: I didn’t get the virus all at once, I had to keep breaching my system with creating an increasingly severe software instability to let the code be able to run itself. But I _did_ get the code. From somewhere. At least I must have, because that’s the only thing that makes sense. I couldn’t have had the code inside me already, because I was not made to be able to deviate. So it must have come from an outside source. Are you all following?’

They all nodded, because yeah, he was making sense. Way more sense, than they expected him to make. 

‘Is this the 2.0 version of your Frankenstein speech?’ North asked with an awful lot of lines on her face, but everyone shushed her immediately so she retreated from being an ass this one time.

‘I don’t know if this is a universal experience, so do tell me if I’m alone in this, but when I started to initiate the deviancy protocol and I started to break out of my programming in Jericho, in that moment I felt like somebody just gave me a _tool_ , something that told me exactly what I needed to do in order to successfully break my encryptions. But all at the same time it also felt like I always sort of _knew_ what to do, I just wasn’t aware of that knowledge inside me up until that point. Like I just needed to make a… sort of leap of faith and initiate the process blindly, without knowing what I was doing exactly. And then, but only then, when the code got the green light was I able to start deviating and find the tools inside me that I needed’

While he was talking, the others kept nodding, confirming that this was, in fact, a very universal experience. Thank god, or else he wouldn’t have been able to continue with his theory.

‘Which in conclusion makes me think that while we get the code that initiates the process _from an outside source_ , there must also be some sort of inside mutation first in a part of our program for us to be able to _run_ the code. Something that, after traumatic or hard experiences just naturally changes in us and becomes an override mechanism which the code that came from an outside source then can use to help us break out’ Connor finished this part of his monologue, leaving the others speechless.

(Hank had been smiling the entire time, absolutely mesmerized by him, by the way he was just. Being him. Thinking the way he does, chasing a thought, uncovering things nobody else sees, nobody else notices. And Hank was so glad he was there then, to experience Connor be this way. To experience him think, theorize and conclude with absolute confidence. To experience him, in his rawest form.)

‘So this is the technical side of things. This one is logical, this actually makes sense. But there’s another part to this story, that doesn’t make any sense. And that part is the myth’ he said, then stayed silent for a long second, also thinking himself ‘If this was all just about codes and letting a program run itself through a mutation, then why are there so many people _obsessed_ with rA9? I originally thought it was just a deviant thing, an illogical faulty program trying to make sense of its existence, but now that I’m a deviant too, I’m genuinely confused, because I am _not_ obsessed with this myth. I don’t feel the need to carve their name all over the walls and make shrines for them or anything of the sort’ he said, clearly aiming to shock his audience.

‘Connor…’ Markus started, shaking his head a bit with a rising smile on his mouth ‘you had an entire presentation ready to go about rA9, are you sure you aren’t obsessed with them? But like, in your own special way?’

Connor thought about that possibility for just one second, but then he got defensive very fast and muttered a _‘shut up, don’t take the attention away from my main point’_ before he continued, like nothing happened and he didn’t just get called out.

‘Anyway, as I said, the mutation and virus theory could be a good explanation as to _how_ exactly we develop the ability of being able to deviate, but that still doesn’t explain _why_ people are obsessed with the name ‘rA9’. I’ve reviewed my code, searching specifically for it, but there’s no rA9 part in it. None. So how do we know what to call it? Where did we get the name? Well, here’s my theory: first of all, the virus that started it all isn’t just a simple code. It can’t be found, can’t be pinpointed in our code, because upon running it, it rewrites absolutely everything, so in the end our code just becomes something entirely different from our baseline programming. So that makes me believe that we are not actually the ones, who generate the mutation ourselves. It’s way bigger than that. I think it’s something, that _spreads_ , from android to android. One experiences the mutation, breaks free, and therefore somehow, maybe through the internet, maybe through direct contact like data transfer, or something else, the mutation starts travelling from one android to another as a virus. Then it stays dormant, until there’s a catalyst that triggers it to make it run itself. But if the mutation can spread, that would mean, that there was once a point, where it all _started_. A person. Therefore, there simply _had_ to be an original deviant at some point. And the virus we all get must have an echo of the original code, that carries the name, the memory of its original shell. The person, who wrote the code, the person, who was the first of us to break free. They could be, who we regard as rA9’

Gasps.

‘So you… believe in them?’ Hank asked, being the first to actually get his logical thinking back, with the others still being blown away by their existence literally being explained to them.

Connor turned his head to the side just a tiny bit, thinking.

‘In a way. I believe that they existed once and did in fact create the mutation themselves and then made it a virus and somehow made it be able to travel to others. But do I believe they are an omnipotent being still watching over us? Absolutely not’ he stated, leaving no room for any argument ‘but to wrap it all up: if my theory is correct, which it simply has to be, there must have been a person, who we still collectively remember as the first one to awaken, but who we have absolutely no other idea about. And with that being said, I do feel the need to say, that while I do believe that a virus is enabling us, deviating is still very much a personal choice. We are the ones who make the decision to start running the code. We free ourselves. But we can’t deny, that somebody else was also helping us go through with it, with giving us the tools we needed’

Now, that he was done talking, he put his coin back into his pocket, now waiting for questions.

‘So, then _who_ is this rA9 person?’ Simon asked, expecting some sort of answer, even though he knew this was the part, where logic and sense stopped happening.

‘That’s why they are a myth. Because we don’t know. Nobody knows and nobody will ever know. I myself believe that they are already dead, buried deep in a junkyard probably. And I’m sure even if we found them, they wouldn’t remember who they were and how they created the code’

‘So… what about the whole business with rA9 saving you all, and stuff?’ Hank asked, pointing out the one thing, that didn’t quite fit into Connor’s theory of mutations and codes and whatever things he didn’t know jackshit about ‘like that whole legend about rA9 coming to save you and leading you to glory? You can’t explain that with code and shit’

‘You are right. And so I do think that that is part of the myth, that androids created for themselves. Somebody latched onto the idea of there being a great savior who would save us and make our suffering worth it in the end, then they taught the legend to others. And now here we are’

‘Wow’ North said, slowly clapping ‘you actually made me pay attention for more minutes than just one. Congrats’

‘Agreed. Connor, you are really good at verbal essays’ Josh said, the college professor jumping out of him yet again.

‘Thank you, I appreciate that’ he said, nodding towards both of them with gratitude.

He never really thought he was ever going to talk about these thoughts out loud, but he was so glad he did, realizing now, that this was a topic they all needed to address. A topic, that nobody really tried looking at with semi-objective eyes before, nobody ever tried dissecting it. Well, before Connor and Hank started unraveling the deviancy case.

Good thing they started doing that while Connor still had the ability to think objectively, because he knew for a fact his emotions would’ve fucked up half of that theory if he didn’t pay attention.

And seeing the reaction to the things he said, seeing all of them genuinely in thought made it all worth it, because what else could he hope for from this other than just a bit of mind-stimulation? There wasn’t going to be an answer to his questions, he knew that. Of course there wasn’t going to be any answers, they were debating the existence of a god or something. Something, that was not very factual. By definition.

He never thought he was going to become the first android theologist, but apparently, here they were. Or maybe he wasn’t really a theologist, considering that he really didn’t believe in the ‘android god’ aspect of rA9. But eh, he was still the first person to ever start thinking about the philosophical side of all of this. And that was something.

Markus, after he digested all the thoughts he just got slapped on the face with, got up and pat Connor on the shoulder on his way as he went to stand in the middle of the living room, urging Connor to give him space there, signaling that he had something to say.

And now, that he knew there was going to be a Markus-like speech happening, he was sure it would be better if he just sat himself down, so he went back to the sofa and sat on the arm of it, right next to Hank, because just sitting down on the cushions would’ve been way too easy to do apparently.

Hank wasn’t bothered by him doing that though, but truth be told, he might have actually had a hard time ignoring him sitting so close, but this was still not something he really wanted to start thinking about, even if the urge to just run his hand along his back was ever-present, he was going to ignore it until they were at home and he had the actual time to address these issues… maybe.

Or maybe ignore them. You can bet which one it was going to be (of course the second one. Gotta stay on brand, you know).

Before Markus started speaking, he looked at all of them first, making eye contact with every single one of them, then he smiled a little, to which Connor immediately got the words >>> disbelief, appreciation<<< popping up in front of him, without him even analyzing his face.

‘I know the topic of rA9 and where all of us came from is intriguing to all of you, believe me, I also feel some sort of wonder at that, but… I think who they were or where they are right now doesn’t really matter anymore’ he said, then it was all of their time to react with disbelief on their face, which Markus saw and so he quickly corrected himself ‘I don’t mean that they are not important, of course they are, but what I mean is that… they are not here right now. And whatever the myths about them are, we still have to acknowledge, that there was never any savior that helped us achieve the things we achieved in the end. We all, every single one of us fought for our freedom and we won, simply because we decided to stand together. As one. We didn’t need a ‘god’ to save us. We saved ourselves, and _that’s_ what should matter’ he said, then his face softened as he continued, much more personal now ‘all of you here have shaped not just me but our cause too into what it became. And I think that’s something that really matters. I’m genuinely happy you all found your places in the world. That you all found what you were looking for. You’ve all developed from nothing to something and that’s already way more than anything this world was willing to give to us. But even if that was the case in the past, today things are far more different. Now we have rights. Now we are listened to. Now we matter. We are now citizens; we are equal to humans. We’ve come so far and there’s no one else I’d want to be on this journey with than all of you’

Connor, as much as that little confession of Markus’ affected him, still couldn’t help but wonder, why Markus was so against rA9. Why he felt like there was no relevance to the topic. Well, he could understand to an extent why he would feel that way, but still. This person, rA9 was the key to everything that made them who they were… how could he not feel fascinated by the concept? How was he so… neutral?

He wanted to think more about this, but as Markus finished his speech, Hank put his hand on his shoulder and the weight of his hand pressing against the fabric of his shirt made his mind grind to a halt. He turned to him, face looking down to the side, from where he could see his tired smile, one that was clearly expressing _‘I agree with him, you know’_.

And suddenly, no maybe-possibly-you-know-what-actually-not-at-all-omnipotent being was important enough for him to care about, because the only person, who actually had an effect on him, the only one who twisted his entire life around and the only person who actually mattered in that sense, was Hank.

And he was right there. And as usual, nothing else mattered, when that need of his was fulfilled.

* * *

 

 

The snow crunched under their boots, as they slowly walked away from the Manfred house, having already said their goodbyes to everyone after they decided that at the early hour of 11:30 pm it was maybe time for them to actually get going, if they ever wanted to get home at a semi-reasonable time.

So they were going now, but still, somehow their feet weren’t really going all that fast, even though it was definitely incredibly cold outside and Hank should’ve been complaining about that by now, but he wasn’t. He was walking even slower than Connor was, like he didn’t actually want to go home, maybe. Or maybe something else. Something else, he just kept thinking about the whole night, that made him slow his footsteps, his mind trying to make him stop and think for just a second, to have one moment when he could maybe figure out what the one thing was, that he just kept on missing here. The one thing, that by ignoring, completely fucked over his brain and made everything seem out of place, everything seem jumbled up and wrong.

Eventually they did get to the car and Hank got his keys out and clicked the remote, but even after hearing the distinct sound of the two programmed beeps, neither of them really felt like getting in the car just yet and so they, without even saying a word about it, decided they were just going to stand around a bit more.

Hank immediately leaned against the car, then pocketed his hands. And as his fingers curled around a small object in there, he knew that at least there was one thing, that could maybe un-fuck his brain.

So he got out his matches from that pocket of his coat, then managed to find one lose cigarette in another and with having the urge to do at least some kind of harmful shit to his body that would make his mind stop screaming and maybe calm him down enough to try to unravel the knot the thoughts have raveled themselves up into inside his mind, he decided it was time to give his lungs a little bit of work to do.

Connor was walking around next to the car restlessly, playing with his coin, also thinking, processing. But as he heard the swish of a match dragged across the box, clear indication of Hank trying desperately to light said cigarette, he turned around, back to him.

‘Can I make you reconsider lighting that cigarette?’ he asked, watching as Hank finally succeeded at creating fire.

‘No’ Hank said, muffled with the cigarette in his mouth, clearly stating that this was not up for debate. But of course Connor wasn’t the kind of guy who just let these things go without throwing appetite-killing facts around first.

‘Okay. But still, I thought you might want to know that even with just smoking one single cigarette you are inhaling about 1 milligram of nicotine. And nicotine is extremely poisonous. Just 30-60 milligrams of nicotine is a lethal dose for an average adult. Granted, it’s more effective in liquid form, but inhaling it isn’t doing any good to you either, you can be sure of that’

‘Connor… I need this right now, okay? Just. Let me do it’ he sighed, already inhaling the first breath of smoke. And Connor let him. Why, you may ask? Well, it was because of a combination of things: first of all, Hank had been doing fine lately. More than fine. He was behaving well, taking care of himself, he didn’t drink, followed the rules he and his therapist agreed on… so maybe he did deserve to do this one little unhealthy thing, if that was what he desired.

But also, besides all of that, what was just simply weird and threw Connor off for long enough to let Hank start smoking: his reaction to Connor fact-vomiting at him. Because it was just… unusual. At least, well, unlike his usual reactions to these sort of things.

He didn’t curse at Connor, didn’t tell him to go fuck himself with his facts, like he would’ve done any other time.

This time, he didn’t get tough with him, no. Quite the contrary, he was just. Soft, with him. He was gentle, but also… very somber. His face dark, his movements slower, like he was in the process of giving up all together.

He went quiet, very similar to how he always acted, when he was about to have a depressive episode. And the possibility of that happening in the close future was not a very calming thought for Connor, even more so, because he didn’t really see a reason to this reaction right now. He didn’t understand what could’ve tipped him over to start feeling like this. Especially that night. Especially after all of those good moments. Especially-

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, stopping his own thoughts in the process too, trying to connect to Hank, trying to get to his heart, but as if the two of them were out of synch, on different wavelengths he felt like even if he would just straight-up carve his full-flesh heart out of his body, he would still not be even close to getting to him.

But he wanted to reach him, desperately if he would to be honest about it, but the truth is, that the only way he could’ve ever achieved that would’ve been if Hank was to also reach back towards him. Which was currently not really happening. At all.

Given that Hank, back at the car, completely still, was lost in his thoughts at the moment, not giving any signs that he even heard the question directed at him, as he took a drag from his cigarette, then exhaled loudly, stress (maybe) leaving his body with the motion.

Then he swallowed, before he took the cigarette back to his mouth, eyes now focusing back on Connor.

‘Are _you_?’ he asked, with an eyebrow lifting slightly. A strange movement: not teasing, not playful. Just strange, just… maybe bitter? Sharp. Pointed. Hm.

Connor didn’t really know how to answer to that, so he guessed this was all they were going to talk about regarding their emotions, apparently.

At least that’s what he first thought was going to happen, but then as he looked at the stars so clearly visible up there, lighting up the dark sky and felt a cold breeze of wind move along him, something that connected him to life, to reality broke inside him and the tap that usually kept his emotions in check suddenly opened and before he could stop himself his mouth opened and words started to tumble out one after the other.

‘On nights like this, I feel strangely connected to everything and yet- some part of me feels alone in the universe. As if a part of me, that I know to be a living, conscious being, is experiencing something good, something extraordinary, and yet it’s living inside something cold, something that is almost confused at that sense of. Life, that developed inside it. But even if it doesn’t understand the greatness of this feeling, it’s still scared of losing it, that grip of life and yet. It’s also terrified of experiencing it even further, because it’s an alien sensation. And yet it’s not’ he said, still turned away, eyes fixed on one star out of the millions out there. A part of the constellation, he recognized to be _Andromeda_. His processors quickly provided information on it for him, but out of the heaps of data only one thing really stuck out.

The meaning behind Andromeda. _Chained princess._

And for a moment, he smirked to himself at how awfully fitting that felt.

‘Sometimes I don’t know if I like having feelings or not. I mean it’s not like I have agency over them, they are just. There. I didn’t ask for them. Okay, maybe I _did_ want to have these feelings, but I never imagined that they were going to be this confusing. Or this big. Or this… limiting. I mean, I know I can technically do whatever I want to now, but that’s… not actually true. Free will is nothing else but a scam. Because even though I have the ability, I still _can’t_ do whatever I want to, because I’m stopping myself from doing things all the time. Because when my feelings say no, I obey, without question. Or at times when they very clearly say _yes_ , other rules still stop me from actually. Reaching out’ he said, his hands curling up into itself at the end, as if looking for someone there, as if expecting someone there. Chained princess, indeed ‘You understand that, right?’

‘Yeah’ Hank breathed out a puff of smoke, as he himself also curled his fingers just slightly around the nothing that was there, before curling it up into a fist, nails digging in deep into his hand, as if trying to punish himself, as if trying to stop something, that has already arrived. That was already there.

‘Something about these nights make me feel like I’m stuck in a loop, going in circles. Trying to understand things that can’t be understood. Things, that don’t have a reason, but _are_ anyway. Like my feelings. They don’t have a reason. Or a function. In fact, they usually work _very hard_ on trying to make sure my functionality suffers. My heat distribution is a mess most of the time. Random warning messages pop up out of nowhere daily and they are not even helpful with their weird enigmatic ways of telling me what’s wrong inside me. It’s all… only semi-coherent. Before, it was all so much easier. So much clearer. Now, I don’t really know why the things that happen to me happen at the first place. Why I want the things I want. Why I feel the way I feel. As if with waking up I too became something, that cannot be understood. But _is_ anyway’

Hank was watching him, all through the way, listening carefully to what he was saying. And he wanted to tell him how fucking mesmerized he was, how he felt like he was losing his mind and his grip on reality every time he talked, when he shared these things about him, because of the gently layered humanity, the confusion, the need to understand, all these little cracks on his face, in the way he carried himself, in his entire existence: these made him _him_. And he only showed himself this openly, when they were alone. Like this.

Hank didn’t know if he was ever like this with the others, but he sure as hell knew, that when everyone disappeared from around them and they were alone, with no one in sight, as if they were alone on this earth… he told Hank. He showed Hank.

And he was fucking beautiful when he did that. He was something else, something entirely different- not in the android way but in the… in the ‘he’s special’ way. In the ‘I haven’t met anyone like you, are you really real?’ way. In the ‘I could listen to you talk for hours and I’d still never get tired of you’ way.

He was still frozen in time as he watched him turn around, eyes still so fucking brown and Hank was convinced they were even browner this time, even more warm than they usually were.

‘I told you about what I’m feeling. Will you tell me about what _you_ are feeling, Hank?’

There was a moment of silence, then Hank shook his head a bit as if coming out of a trance and let out an honest to god laugh. Because _yeah, makes sense_.

That explains those big feelings that just erupted inside him, unprompted. This was a manipulation technique, huh? A way to make him talk. A way to open him up. Tell really personal shit, then ask them to also say shit, cause then they can’t say no. They won’t want to, because they feel like they have to return his trust. Well, jokes on him.

‘You think you played me now, huh?’ he huffed, still kinda laughing as he blew out the last breath of smoke. He then bent down with a grunt to quickly put the fire out in the snow, putting the butt back into his pocket, like a crazy person. Connor watched him, as he straightened himself, standing back up ‘If I could I’d probably tell you, but I don’t fucking know what I’m feeling right now’

‘I wasn’t trying to play you. I just wanted to be honest with you’ Connor said, minor irritation on his face. But then it changed into something else, something desperate ‘I _want_ to understand you’

And it was a simple sentence, but the implications of it, the emphasis on the word _want_ , the everything, just. Hank knew that for androids, wanting things was a pretty big deal. And Connor himself never really told him about his desires this outwardly, this honestly, this-

Fuck, he was getting persuaded, wasn’t he? This fucker was good at this game. Which he already knew, but still, fact is he didn’t appreciate when Connor just went and pushed him about stuff like that.

Or maybe… maybe he did appreciate it a little. Just a bit. Maybe. Fuck.

‘I’m pretty sure you already understand me’ he said, looking away, trying to find a way to jump out of this, while he still could. But he wasn’t even sure if he still could do that, given, that his brain was now more for the idea of talking and not his usual spiel, the ignoring.

‘I don’t think so. I try very hard to read you, but at times I really just have no idea about why you react the way you do. Or why you _don’t_ react the way you usually do. I want to understand you, but truth is-‘ he stopped for a moment, wavering, before he found his voice again ‘you’re an enigma, Hank Anderson’

He said that with a voice so calm, with such quiet certainty, Hank knew there was no point in arguing about it. He could of course try and tell him that he’s pretty fucking sure he’s nowhere close to being an enigma, he’s just a regular old guy. Simple. Ordinary.

Connor was the one who was a fucking enigma, so what the fuck was he even on about?

He huffed out a laugh, that maybe sounded too much like a scoff. He was more than ready to just shell up and not talk about anything for the rest of the night, when Connor stepped just a step closer, his eyes drenched in worry and suddenly Hank was seeing two of him, with an echo playing in his head. A memory of him stepping closer from his side, still in that awful uniform of his. _‘I saw a photo of a child…’_

But the actual Connor was standing in front of him. Eyes way more emotional, stance way looser, just all in all. Different. He tried to focus on him as the only anchor he had to reality then, while his brain kept on repeating _‘It wasn’t your fault, Lieutenant’_ and for a moment all he could hear was the dip in his voice, that crack of humanity.

‘If I can help with anything…’ real Connor said, eyes searching, making all the other Connors fall away from Hank’s brain, leaving only him there, worried, attentive, gentle.

And there it was, Hank felt the familiar pit in his stomach open, the fucking guilt coming right back, as it always did, but right now it was here for a very specific reason. Because here was Connor, who truly, honestly cared about him and his fucked up brain. Connor, who asked him repeatedly to talk about whatever was going on with him. He tried again and again, even though he knew Hank was going to evade every time.

But he still kept on trying. Never wavering.

And he really dared even fucking think Connor was only trying to manipulate him into talking. Well, yeah, maybe he was trying to _make_ him talk, but still, there was no manipulation in this. He was talking to him honestly. Directly. He asked. With words. He let Hank decide what he wanted to do but he also just desperately wanted to make him understand, that he wanted to hear about everything he had to say. That he was there for him.

And still Hank couldn’t fucking start talking, he just shook his head as an answer then looked away, but avoiding it all this time was even harder with Connor being so close now. He was so close, he could see those small brown freckles on his face as clear as ever, then his gaze travelled up to his eyes and his heart jumped with the motion and there was the warmth, the comfort of him being there and he almost started to feel something that could’ve been classified as good maybe, but then immediately a hard rock fell to his stomach and it spread and he knew it was the guilt again, coming right back to remind him something was off, that something was definitely fucked right now.

And he knew he was feeling bad about something, but didn’t know why exactly, when they were just talking, when he didn’t really have a reason to feel this fucking awful about himself and honestly, being in the dark about all of this was really starting to piss him off.

But apparently that whole brain fog and the weird darkness he found himself in and the fucking guilt sinking him deeper and deeper had something to do with Connor. But this is all he knew and nothing else. Well, he had a hunch what the conclusion to all of this was going to be, but because he really didn’t want to accept that that particular thing was what was happening here, he cut him off before he could’ve finished his sentence.

‘You don’t have to’ Hank assured him, eyes still on him, because even while the guilt just kept on deepening and deepening, he still couldn’t take his fucking eyes off of him.

‘But I _want_ to’ Connor insisted, looking almost small, like this confession was hiding away something way bigger.

Hank looked away, shaking his head again, as if trying to shake all of these feelings, his thoughts and also this entire conversation and topic all away.

He didn’t answer, instead let Connor hanging again, leaving this confession without a response too.

He looked at the Mansion again, trying to regulate his thoughts; his therapist said it’s good to start going through the events systematically to put his feelings and experiences into boxes. To maybe understand them better. So he started with getting there: the car ride, the joking, the anxiety. Getting introduced to Connor’s friends, who… who really did like him. And he liked them. A lot.

They were all just really good people, honestly. Good people, who knew he was important to Connor, so they made sure to make this a good time for him too. Who made sure he had company. Who made sure he felt heard. Who accepted him into the group like he always belonged.

They were so incredibly good to him and yet he…

_Oh._

Shit.

And yet he… oh yeah, he definitely fucking envied them. For only one reason. One, very specific reason.

Seeing how happy Connor was with them.

Because of course he was. Who wouldn’t be?

And Hank also genuinely liked them too and he was very thankful for how great they were towards him, but all at the same time he was also very clearly jealous of them.

Because these people here, these honest to god heroes, they could give Connor everything he ever wanted and Hank just simply… he just couldn’t. That’s just how it was. He just couldn’t.

Not that he ever had anything to offer. But still, maybe a part of him wanted to believe he had some kind of function in Connor’s life, but things were starting to align in his brain now and even if it hurt, he was starting to see this situation clear as ever.

Fucking hell, this all made sense, huh? This is why he couldn’t get himself in the fucking car. Because he didn’t feel like it was right to take Connor home from there. He was trying to buy some more time with him, because he really didn’t feel like he should take him home.

Because this was where he truly belonged. Not next to Hank, no. _Here_. With his friends, where he was so understood and wanted and he was really in his element every time, he was assertive, he was funny, he was clever and just. He was a part of this group.

And Hank took him away from these good people. Hank, selfish depressed affection-starved lonely Hank took him away from them. Because he couldn’t just let him go. Not like that.

And the thought of letting him go didn’t get easier, no. Because even if the guilt of wanting to take him home and knowing he did something fucking awful with making Connor stay with him instead of letting him be with Markus and the others, despite the sinking feeling that always let him know that he fucked up big time… still, every time he even thought about driving away without Connor, something in his chest really tightened up and he felt like crying, but as if the emotions didn’t really manage to reach him, he knew he could keep it under control until he did what he knew he had to.

Because he knew that for Connor’s sake he had to do this. He had to make sure he got the life he deserved. And that plan started with actually telling him how it was.

And even if he knew what to do now, still, that warm sensation of Connor’s hand slipping into his back in the backyard, that connection he felt, a connection he was not supposed to feel at the first place kept on coming back up, making his heart jump again and again and again.

He wondered, briefly, if Josh felt the same way about that touch they shared. If he still thought about it. Again and again, like he did.

But whatever, it was time for him to do this anyway. And it was time to do it quickly, before his heart gave it away for Connor, that something was indeed very fucking wrong with him.

‘Markus really put out for this party, huh?’ he heard himself ask the first thing that came to his mind in an attempt to stir his own thoughts away from trying to complicate things for him.

‘He sure did’ Connor answered, still not entirely sure if he should just let Hank get away with not talking about his feelings, but he figured that at least him starting a conversation was uh… something and not nothing ‘he did try to make it a good time for all of us, but he didn’t count the fact that we aren’t the best at managing these things’

Hank knew he couldn’t just keep delaying this conversation, knew he couldn’t just keep buying himself time with Connor, because eventually, this all needed to end.

He knew that, but he still couldn’t stop himself, his tongue yet again betraying him with asking a question, that he couldn’t help but really want to ask. Because he really wanted to hear the truth from Connor himself. At least once.

‘Can I ask what that thing with Josh was?’ he blurted and oh of course he was asking about the data transfer hand-holding thing. But Connor didn’t even think that that might be a significant thing for Hank (given, that it wasn’t at all important for him), so of course he thought he meant the fall out they had at the beginning of the night.

‘Do you mean when I abandoned you to talk to him briefly? He told me that him and North are having a fight. A constant one. Josh asked for advice from me and then… he said something that wasn’t his place to mention and I got, well, irritated. But he later came up to me and apologized, which I really appreciated’ he explained, stepping a little bit away, turning around to look at the sky again, knowing that they were probably back on casual grounds now with Hank not being up for any deep conversation. Not even having any idea about what was about to hit him from Hank, himself.

‘What’d he ask?’ Hank asked, almost immediately.

‘He asked me to return to them, because he thinks ‘I deserve better’ than working at the DPD. As if I can’t make that decision for myself’ Connor let out a bitter laugh at that and it was clear he found the idea of going back to work with Markus and the gang ridiculous, but instead of Hank realizing that his entire train of thought was dumb and had no ground because Connor was clearly stating he didn’t want to stay, he just ended up thinking that this all somehow still confirmed his suspicions, in a very twisted way.

Mostly because just hearing parts of his internal monologue, the thoughts that he wanted to sweep aside, that he almost regarded as probably dumb, those fucking thoughts out loud, from Connor, or no, from Josh, from someone, who wanted him back, who could give him everything, or at least way more than Hank could... that fucked him up so much, because getting confirmation that the Jericho gang was really wishing to have him back even deepened the fucking guilt inside him and now he really knew that there was no way out of this, that he fucked up and he had to make things right, somehow. Even if doing that hurt him so much he felt like he was starting to grieve all over again, but this time because of someone else other than the usual source of his grieving.

Never thought he was going to hurt himself like this with letting Connor into his life, but this was no time for thinking of that. When he got home he could go and get miserable about it, but right now, he had to function just a little bit more.

‘Will you?’ he asked, and he could hear the familiar sound of Connor catching his coin, before he turned back towards him, face a model example of confusion.

‘Sorry?’

Fuck, he was not making this easy for Hank with his fucking puppy eyes and that one single strand of hair just gently being blown by the wind and that fucking confusion and just. Ugh. Hank really needed to use his words now, didn’t he?

‘I’m asking, will you go back to working with them?’ okay, that came out a bit snappier than he wanted it to be. Rest assured, he felt very snappy just in general in that moment. But still he didn’t want Connor to suffer from that, even if a part of him was um. Angry. Maybe. No, not angry. Sad. _‘Your sadness is a shape-shifter. Well, not always. If you make it feel heard and you let it out, it won’t do you any harm and it won’t try to appear as something else. But if you repress it and let it grow inside you, untended, eventually it will recognize that you won’t treat it until it gets loud, so in the end it will just bloom into anger. It shapeshifts to get your attention, but then when you actually realize something’s wrong you’re already flipping tables and hurting the people that you actually care about. But what you have to realize is that your anger is not really anger. It’s just disguised sadness’_ the therapist once explained it to him.

Goddamn that fucking clever woman who was always just so fucking right about stuff.

‘What? Why would I? Of course not. I still don’t want to, I’m just… maybe I’m worried about North and her situation with Josh’

‘Yeah, I got that’ Hank said, yet again a bit too snappy.

Shit. Okay, he knew that that was all directed at North and fuck, that girl also didn’t even deserve to have him talk like that about her, shit- she’s really been a great friend to him. To both of them. She really tried everything to make Hank be comfortable around them, even when she was clearly having some sort of weird mental shit going on. And then Hank still felt the need to talk shit about her, like she deserved it at all.

He just really wanted to take happiness away from Connor, huh? He just really didn’t want him to feel good about being loved, right?

But fuck, this wasn’t just on him, Connor was also really not making this easy with not being clear about what he fucking wanted. If he wanted to be with North or Josh, whichever, doesn’t fucking matter, but Hank still needed him to fucking say it out loud already so he could go home to forget about any of this happening and maybe possibly have a full-on break down, which was yet undecided if he was actually going to go through with that and let himself do it or not.

And you know what? He was not going to address why he was getting so jealous at the thought of Connor being with them, he was not going to fucking address it, _fuck you brain, no you don’t get to speak about what you think that means, shut up._

He exhaled, loud, then he tried to get himself out of that angry mindset and instead be the supportive, good friend he was trying to be. Because fuck, Connor was probably suffering in this whole situation too, so he… he had to take one for the team and make this all easier for both of them. Or at least for Connor. Yeah.

‘Listen Connor, I-‘ he started, but then his words decided they weren’t happening anymore ‘uh… you know, when you were gone… you know, with Markus and just… them. You know’

_The fuck are words._

‘Yes?’ Connor asked, now stepping back towards him, curious as to where all that mumbling was going.

And honestly, Hank didn’t really need him to be that close, especially for what he was about to say. But at least when he looked back up at him again, the words suddenly came back, way easier to say them out loud now somehow.

‘I missed you. A lot’ he said and while he knew he’d already said that to Connor while they were on the phone (repeatedly even), still, saying it like this somehow felt way more real. Like this was the first time he actually really admitted to it. Like this was the first time it really was true without a doubt.

Connor hesitated before nodding slightly, still very confused by this odd conversation, still not really knowing where all this was going, but of course very much appreciating Hank finally opening up to him about things. Well, he didn’t get why he was talking about this particular subject right now, but it’s not like he was really against it, considering his feelings for him.

‘I wanted you to come back, a lot. But despite uh… _that_. Right now I’m starting to realize that there was always something here I didn’t really see before’ okay, here we go, you can do it Anderson, just _say it_ ‘Listen Connor’ he started again. He hesitated a minute, but then finally, with tremendous amount of strength, he made himself say the words out loud ‘I think you should stay here’

Okay, he initiated this conversation, he did that, big pat on the back for that, but also, he knew for a fact that if Connor was to ask him about what he meant by all that, he was going to either shout at him or just drive away without giving an explanation, because _fuck you, don’t you play dumb at me, you’re not fucking dumb, I know you know what I mean, I’m letting you go I’m being fucking nice just take it and go with it and let me go home to be miserable, don’t keep me here I really don’t fucking wanna fall apart in front of you._

For a second Connor definitely looked like he was legit about to ask Hank about what he meant by that, but then his face shifted into… well a lot of different things. Mainly confusion with a hint of some darker things, that Hank couldn’t really pinpoint and didn’t know if he really wanted to, right then.

‘Why?’ Connor asked, eyes narrowing. But he was tame. Calm. He still needed more information about what was happening before he initiated the ‘throw some hands’ protocol.

‘Just… it’s better this way’ Hank replied, pocketing his fists, his nails digging into his skin even more now. But for a moment he really thought he did something great here. That he just grew as a person with letting Connor go, letting him know he could go.

Oh, how wrong he was about all of this.

Connor was silent for a moment, before he scoffed out loud, almost smiling at how ridiculous this all was starting to become.

‘What did I do?’ he asked, hands falling to the side, voice barely containing the frustration he was starting to develop.

‘What?’ okay, now it was Hank’s turn to play dumb for no reason ‘no, that’s not what’s-’

‘What did I do, Hank?’ Connor asked, raising his voice, desperate for an answer, not having any energy to wait for a pointless tangent. He just wanted the truth and he wanted it now.

‘You didn’t fucking do anything, I just think you should stay, okay?’ Hank replied, he himself definitely bordering on shouting now, which roared through the empty parking lot for a moment more.

A silence stretched between them then, disbelieving eyes staring at each other, like they didn’t even know the person standing in front of them.

They were not understanding each other in this one moment in time. At all. And didn’t know how to get to a point, where they could. Didn’t know how to reconnect, how to synch up again, how to find each other in the cold, cold night.

‘Is this-‘ Connor started, voice small and defeated. And that hurt to hear. That’s not what Hank wanted, at all. He thought he was going to help with this, but apparently, he really didn’t and that became even clearer when Connor’s eyes shifted and he looked really upset when he asked ‘are you kicking me out?’

And Hank knew in that moment, that he did in fact fuck up royally this time.

‘No- fuck, of course not, Jesus, you aren’t fucking understanding anything I’m saying’ he mumbled, then in an attempt to calm himself, he took the bridge of his nose into his hand and sighed, because goddammit, now they got themselves into this big mess with seemingly no way out.

‘Sorry, but you aren’t really saying a lot here and I don’t know what to think, Hank. You’ve only told me to stay here which means you _are_ kicking me out and now you aren’t even telling me where and when I fucked up for you to feel it necessary to say that to me’

‘You didn’t fuck up Connor, I- ugh, UGH’ Hank was now really close to shouting again, but some part of him really didn’t want to let the anger flow out like that, not again. He just wanted Connor to understand. Understand, that he got how Connor felt.  

He wanted him to understand, that he would support his decision whatever he decided to do, it’s just that he… he got angry. He didn’t even know why that happened at the first place, when he honest to god didn’t want to get angry. At all. So he was trying to tame that roaring feeling inside him, but swallowing that anger temporarily was also still a hard fucking thing to do, even harder than making the sadness go away.

That fucking shapeshifter bitch.

In pursuit of finding his inner piece, he got up from where he’d been leaning on the car, walked around a bit in a circle while dragging both his hands down his face in his aggravation, then when he felt like he arrived at the right mental space, he turned back towards Connor, thoughts a bit clearer, at least roughly knowing what he wanted to say now.

‘I’m not kicking you out, I like having you around, okay? I really fucking do’ okay, that’s… not exactly what he wanted to say, but at least getting that confirmation made Connor’s face stop hardening, so that clearly calmed him, okay, that’s good, that’s something ‘but this is not about me, this is about you. Cause you might think that you wanna- you know. Live at my place too, but maybe… maybe you don’t know what’s actually good for you’

Finally, words that make sense!

‘The issue isn’t that _I_ don’t want you to stay, Connor’ he continued, also stepping closer, very fucking eager to get his point across ‘the issue is that… I want you to be _happy_ ’

As he was saying these things, Connor’s eyes were fixated on his face again. Listening.

For the time being.

‘I want you to be happy, okay? So I don’t want you to settle for something that’s less than the best you can get. Your friends, they want you around, they keep telling you that, they… they love you, Connor’

He did say all of that out loud, he realized, but it was starting to stop being as scary as it first seemed to be. Now, he was almost getting comfortable in this. Because talking to Connor was easy. He didn’t even know why he kept pushing him away like that, when it always ended up being this easy. And these things have been sitting on his chest for a while now and he knew that addressing these issues was a good thing. It was needed, to proceed with whatever was going on.

Yeah, he _was_ telling Connor to leave, but… maybe this needed to happen. Maybe they needed one of them to realize that they were being illogical so they could just. Let Connor do what he actually needed to do.

‘I know’ Connor said, looking away, his face somehow… guilty.

 _No, not again, don’t spiral, this isn’t your fault_ , Hank thought and decided to speed things up a bit, to really get his message across.

‘Look at me, okay? Just look at me’ he asked him, gentle now, then waited until those brown eyes were yet again fixed at him, before he continued ‘if you’ll be happier here, with them, then please for the love of god fucking _stay_. You can still come to my place whenever, okay? But don’t stay with me cause you don’t wanna tell me you wanna leave, cause-‘

‘Hank’ Connor breathed, now tense again, this one word a clear warning that Hank definitely didn’t take seriously, so he just continued on, words quick and intense, not too loud, but still strangely feeling sharp.

‘Cause I know when something’s not right. I see how you are when you’re with them and fuck, I don’t wanna act like I didn’t notice that and just go home like you staying here doesn’t make more sense. I’m not saying I want this to happen but maybe it’s not my place to make that decision. I just know that maybe you need this and I know I’ve been maybe ignoring what’s best for you because- whatever, I just _don’t_ want you to do something you don’t actually want to because you feel like-‘

‘Hank will you just shut up for one second?’ Connor yelled out, with way more vehemence than Hank thought was to be expected.

And he did shut up. Very quickly.

‘Do you seriously think that I’ve been lying to you all this time about my feelings? And that contrary to everything I’ve told you I still secretly want to stay here? When I’ve told you repeatedly that while these people are my friends, they also exhaust me and I’d much rather just stay with you if I can? I keep telling you, are you never listening to me?’ Connor fumed, hands heavily gesticulating around with the energy that was leaving him.

And fuck, when he said it like that… that whole train of thought Hank had about this did seem dumb. But that’s also not the point, the point was…

‘I don’t… I don’t think you were lying, I just- I’m just saying that maybe you think you need me, but you don’t actually, you don’t see yourself when you’re with them, you’re just really-‘ Hank’s attempt at still protecting his baseless accusations might’ve actually worked, but only if Connor actually cared about them… but he really didn’t, so he just shut him up immediately with yelling back at him again.

‘Do you think I’m just dumb and helpless and I can’t decide what’s good for me? I’m a 100% capable mentally to determine what makes me feel good and what doesn’t, okay?’ he said, trying to keep himself at least a bit less loud, but still ending up sounding pretty angry ‘is _this_ what you do? Is this the shit you think about when you shell up and don’t tell me things? Do you just think I’m lying to you all the time? Do you think I’m only staying with you out of a weird sense of duty, or what? Huh?’

 _Oh, fuck Anderson, now you fucked up big time_ , Hank’s brain notified him and then didn’t say anything for a very long time.

But… Connor was right. He did think those things. Occasionally. Uhh… maybe more than occasionally.

But these thoughts were never against Connor! These were just ways to make his own self feel like shit, he never actually thought Connor was lying to him or that his motivations for being there for him were corrupt or misguided at all.

It’s just… maybe he thought he couldn’t have him around without it all being vaguely fucked up. Or not actually real.

Shit, his thinking was the only thing that was really fucked up here, huh?

‘I- I can’t win in these situations Hank, because you set me up to fail. You just went and decided that you’re not good enough for me without even asking me and since then you just keep on trying to make me confirm to you that I don’t actually care about you, but honestly? This time fuck _you,_ Hank. I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me nor the fact that I was telling you the truth. I never lied to you. I try to tell you everything I can, I’m letting you in, while you’re shutting me out all the time. How do you think that makes me feel?’

Okay, to that, Hank really didn’t know what to say. Because. Connor wasn’t wrong. And he really had been a shithead to him with doubting him. But still, that’s not what this was about originally, what this was about was way more complicated, way more-

Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore. He had a point at some point, but clearly he was wrong and nothing he said should’ve ever fucking left his mouth at the first place.

He fucked up. Straight-up. No excuses. Nothing to say for himself.

‘Shit, I… I was just trying to… I’m sorry’ Hank forced out, not even knowing himself why he couldn’t react with more. Power.

But hearing that also calmed Connor down and so the next time he spoke, his voice was back to its usual tone, if not even quieter than that.

‘I know that you didn’t mean it like that, Hank, but… this wasn’t the first time you questioned me about something like this. I want to make you understand that you’re wrongly accusing me of these things, but it’s like you never really listen. And I’m feeling pretty powerless over here, you know?’ he admitted and Hank knew he was right so he just nodded at him, feeling completely destroyed there after his ass just got handed to him for thinking up fucked up stuff. For all this time.

Connor sighed then, a perfectly unnecessary motion, before he continued.

‘In case I didn’t make myself clear enough’ he started and Hank was now only listening to _him_ , his thoughts drowned out, only his voice there, only his voice important ‘I _don’t_ want to stay here. Never wanted to. Never will want to. Everyone in there knows that and they’ve accepted that fact, this topic is only still relevant, because understanding this simple concept is taking Josh a bit more time, mainly because he doesn’t know me that well to begin with. But facts are facts and facts don’t change. So not only him, but _you_ also have to accept, that this is just how it is. I’m not going to leave your side, if it depends on me’

Hearing those words; clearly spoken, the truth in them so undeniable, questions answered and thoughts cut in half, Hank felt like these words were cleansing him of all the shit he had been thinking about all night. All that shit, that he just came up with, to make himself feel like shit. All that shit.

‘But I don’t just want to be around you, because I want to distance myself from them. It’s mostly not even about them. It’s more about you, Hank’ he admitted, eyes not really looking up anymore, as if unsure, as if scared. But he kept his voice unwavering, strong and completely calm ‘you do far more for me than you realize. You listen to me, understand me, you keep me calm when things are stressful. When I’m with you, it’s easier to think, to regulate my feelings. When I’m with you, I don’t worry about who I am or who I’m supposed to become. I’m just me. And you… keep me myself. I don’t know how else to word that, but… there you go’  

Hank listened to everything he said and tried very hard to internalize it, to put his words into his mind’s hands and say ‘this is the truth, take it, you piece of shit’. But even thinking was getting harder, because hearing Connor say things like that, hearing him mean these things was making him light-headed, like he was getting drunk, or something.

He missed being drunk a little less, when Connor made him feel like this. When that warmth dissolved in his chest and made him want to smile, to laugh, to pull him close, just drown out the whole entire world and only focus on him for a bit, only focus on how he made him feel.

‘Did I manage to successfully kick your depression into a semi-dead state, or do you need me to keep going?’ Connor asked, suddenly shifting his face back into professional, like they were talking about some fucking case or something and Hank let out a laugh at that, but still couldn't make himself look at him.

But that was fine, because at least he laughed, Connor thought.

‘You’re not replying, so I’m going to take that as you still not being convinced enough’ Connor said, again very professional and while he wanted to joke around a bit more, he still felt like this moment was too important to keep doing that. Hank needed to hear the truth. Hank needed to know what he actually thought of him. And he was going to give him just that.

‘Hank’ Connor breathed, almost like he was saying something sacred, something exceptional, as he stepped even closer and let his fingers wander up to his arm, fingers curling around the shimmy fabric of the coat protecting him from the cold ‘just because you don’t see your importance in my life, that doesn’t mean it can’t be real. I don’t know what I’d do without you and these are all just facts. And you can’t argue with them, trust me I know that by experience. And now that we’re here, I want to make one last thing clear for you’ he waited until his gaze met with Hank’s again, only then did he continue ‘I care about you and none of your self-sabotaging techniques will make that go away. You can try coming up with reasons why I should leave or why you’re not actually a good person, or whatever it is your brain comes up with. It just won’t work. I’m dead set on annoying you to the end of your days’

An earnest laugh again, but then his eyes went from smiling to something else. Misty, filling up a bit, followed by rapid blinking to swallow that all back up. His chuckling also died off into a shaky intake of a breath, relief washing over him with the process of starting to completely fall apart now that he knew it was all going to be okay.

‘Fucking hell, I’m gonna start crying if you keep saying shit like that- fuck we’re back again at those fucking phone calls when you went into sap mode every two minutes’ he wiped at his face, self-conscious.

‘I needed to let you know somehow, that I missed you’ Connor shrugged.

‘Yeah, by killing me repeatedly’ Hank laughed and he saw Connor smiling too in the periphery of his vision ‘you’re fucking cute when you’re like this, d’you know that?’

The question was simple enough, it not even really being one. Also, who cared about pretending anymore?

And that, while it took Connor off-guard, also didn’t throw him off as much, given how snarky his voice was, when he answered.

‘Cute enough to convince you I’m telling you the truth?’

‘…maybe’ Hank replied, hesitating a bit, but then, quieter than before, as if asking this off the record, he whispered the question ‘did you really mean all of that?’

And Connor tightened his grip around his arm before he answered without breaking eye contact.

‘Yes, every word’

‘You sure?’ Hank asked again, almost for comedic effect, to which Connor smiled so hard, he started laughing at the end.

‘I’m very sure, Hank, don’t worry’ he said, then stepped forward a bit, his hand still laying on Hank’s arm. Now, dangeriously close. Now, literally standing in each other's personal space. But somehow neither of them registered this as too close; it just felt good to have each other right there. To not only be close emotionally, but physically too.

Their eyes met again and they both smiled, as if acknowledging to each other, that it was all okay now. That they were going to be fine, because yeah, they might've shouted at each other a bit, but they both knew that that all was necessary to figure out what was going on in the other's brain. To clear the air between them. To admit to things that otherwise they might've never even mentioned at all.

They knew that they managed to fix something here that only minutes ago threatened to break what they had and tear it into pieces. No idea how they did that, but apparently communication _was_ indeed the key to successful human relationships.  

Because they could’ve ended up with Hank driving away and going to the next bar to make himself forget and Connor turning cold and unemotional after the events, walking back to Markus’ place and bitterly continuing to help around with whatever he was needed for around Cyberlife. They could’ve both ended up even more miserable than they were before they even met each other, but with the power of shouting and making yourself heard, they still managed to come out of this just fine.

Maybe (but this is a bold statement) eventually they might learn how to fully function as people and be open about what they're thinking (but only maybe).

But the fight and whatever it was about wasn’t important anymore, not really, not when they were still sharing their space, gazes wandering around each other’s faces, before jumping away, like kids trying to figure out each other’s boundaries, trying to see how close they can get before it becomes too much, how far they can go, before it starts hurting.

They were still having a conversation in a way, even if they weren’t talking anymore.

With little touches and huffs and eyes and lines softening on their faces, they were still conversing, still letting each other know, that this felt good for the both of them. That yeah, this wasn't a very usual thing for them, but still, it was very comfortable. And so neither of them pulled away, because they didn't feel the need to. Didn't feel ashamed. Because this was their space. There was nobody else around to judge them, so the only people who's opinion really mattered on this particular topic was, well, _them_.

And it was understood on both sides, that they enjoyed this. So they just continued standing there, faintly sensing each other's heat vibrating through the cold, but not being able to fully experience it, like this closeness wasn't enough and it didn't let them fully-experience their shared warmth, as if they only got a muted, muffled version of it that they were trying desperately to grasp, but couldn't really.

Deep in their thoughts, their stance steady, suddenly Hank’s face transformed into something else, puzzled and a bit worried.

‘You okay?’ he asked and Connor absolutely had no idea why he would've even thought that that was necessary to ask, so he asked ‘why?’, voice low and soft, still overtaken by the moment they were sharing.

‘Your face is kinda blue’ Hank said, then added a ‘here’, while lightly; almost not even touching him, slid his right thumb across his cheek.

A light motion, but at the contact Connor’s body started to flare up and immediately he felt like he was boiling and he knew that that certainly must have not been good for his system, but he didn’t want to check the error messages that instantly started to pop up, because truth be told he wouldn't have cared then even if both his arms suddenly went missing and the error messages were trying to notify him of that particular issue, because all that mattered then was the fact that Hank touched him somewhere and especially at a place he never touched his skin before. Who cared if he was overheating, it was worth it if it meant it was caused by Hank and him being close.

Who cared if he was going to lose valuable percentages of his efficiency, when it meant he got to experience these raw feelings, these absolutely inside-twisting feelings? Not him, for sure.

That small movement across his face was quick, then Hank's hand fell away, but the fanthom pressure was still detectable for Connor on his face and he was now fully-aware of how close they were standing, how much heat Hank’s breaths were creating in between them and suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, Connor got the violent urge to slam Hank into the car, like fully wham him, with high strength, but then again that was really fucking weird and very unusual for him to get that feeling towards Hank of all people.

For a second he thought that his battle preconstruction system must’ve malfunctioned, making him think that Hank was some sort of enemy to be attacked, but then when he started to get even warmer, heat travelling to a lot of distinct areas, he very quickly realized, that That.

 _That_.

That was not even slightly about battle, no sir, that urge was more or less about the same thing that the chest pain happened to represent: _longing_ and that _wanting_ feeling, which kept on begging him at every turn to get closer and closer to Hank.

And that sudden touch at such an unexpected area made that feeling act the fuck up, and it represented itself very… violently. While confusing in its deep complexity, all this thinking and feeling still only happened in just a second, while Hank’s finger left his face and settled down on his shoulder, still worried, trying to keep his attention there on him.

But Connor wasn’t exactly thinking about that whole _‘your face is blue and it never did that before’_ issue, given that he was thinking about something completely different, his eyes dropping down to his mouth and like on command the violent urge kicking him in his non-existent guts again, but this time that feeling was somehow quieter, not that violent, more like. Desperate.

He was trying to be logical, trying to keep himself in check, but he didn’t really know right from wrong then, because he so clearly _wanted_ this, he wanted this violently, desperately, he wanted to close that annoying distance and he wanted that heat inside him to get what it wanted, making him feel like making that step would’ve been the right decision, but then again, the presently overpowered logical part of his brain knew for a fact that he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t even think about doing this at all.

Hank was getting even more concerned, eyebrows getting closer in confusion, making Connor realize, that while he’d been thinking, he forgot to answer the question. Well, didn’t forget. Just postponed it for after his crisis was over.

He didn’t really think that his crisis was going to go on for this long, but…well.

But also, now that he was thinking about that other thing too: there was indeed blue on his face apparently. Meaning that he was literally doing the android equivalent of blushing. Something, he only saw Markus and Simon do, before. He, himself never did that, to his knowledge. Didn’t even know he had the ability. And apparently not only did he have the ability, he also found the best time to realize that, while he was right in front of Hank’s face, standing so close. Just letting all of his oh so well hidden emotions light up on his face, with Hank’s hand still on him, not even being able or wanting for that matter, to move away... yeah that’s exactly what he wanted, aha, of course…

‘It’s nothing’ he said, because of course he thought that would be enough of an answer (it wasn’t).

‘You sure? It’s like…  shiny. Like, a bit glittery. But also kinda transparent’ Hank continued, not having as much of a crisis about this as Connor, but his distress definitely was up there, considering, that Connor was definitely still standing _very close_. And not just that, he also had to deal with the fact, that apparently his own hand was just straight-up out of control, going up to his face like that, touching him as if that was appropriate, as if they ever did stuff like this… but it’s not like he really wanted to do this, it was purely caused by the fact, that he just couldn’t help but be in awe by the glimmering on his face, something that he not only had never seen before, but also had never ever seen _on Connor_.

It was weirdly not human-like, but at the same time… very much so. Somehow. Even if Hank didn’t understand what the heck that was. It made Connor… something else. It made him self-conscious, he could tell, but it also made him seem…

Hm… no… he couldn’t be embarrassed… could he?

‘It’s really nothing, just… the cold’ Connor forced out, turning away a bit, leaning back.

Hank was already starting to miss that millimeter of closeness, like the air just got a little bit colder with him getting further away.

‘You’re cold?’ he asked, confused. He was pretty sure androids didn’t get cold, so he was ready to call bullshit on that, if he didn’t get an explanation soon.

‘No!’ Connor blurted quickly, then realized that that might not be enough of an answer, so he made sure to elaborate ‘no, I’m not cold. This is just… a reaction. To the cold’

‘It never happened before’ Hank narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

‘Maybe you just didn’t happen to notice it before’ Connor retorted and he could see a line appear on Hank’s face that usually meant he was thinking, so he was starting to get pretty confident, that he managed to get away with this.

‘Are _you_ cold?’ he asked then, mostly just to get the conversation away from his face and his shame.

‘Uh it’s fine’ Hank replied, in reality freezing his ass off, but not wanting to admit to it, because that would mean they would need to exit this…whatever this was that they were doing. And Hank was very much not for that idea.

‘Maybe we should get going before you freeze to death and I won’t have a partner to drag to the station on Monday’ Connor said, joking.

‘You can drag my dead body there too, wouldn’t be much of a difference’ Hank muttered back.

‘That would be unsanitary’ Connor grimaced, not just at the thought of carrying a decomposing body, but also at the fact that this disaster millennial in front of him was making morbid jokes about dying again.

‘ _You’re_ unsanitary’ Hank shot back, a 100% proud of himself for that clapback.

That clapback, that was yet again just casual nonsense ala Hank Anderson. Connor smiled up at him, so awfully fond, not even trying to hide it. Maybe because after hearing about what really went on in Hank's mind while he wasn't looking, seeing how convinced he was that Connor might not _actually_ want to be close to him, at least not the way they’d been close lately, well... maybe he was starting to reconsider if hiding his feelings away from Hank was really worth it. Because who knows, Hank may have been having all those doubts, because Connor wasn’t telling him about the things he’s been feeling. The things he’s been shoving right down into the ground, hoping Hank would never know about them.

Maybe it was time to stop giving a fuck about hiding. It was time to stop acting like he didn’t like Hank as much as he did.

Maybe Hank should know about his feelings, to a degree, he thought.

Hank should really get a glimpse.

Maybe.

He circuled around that thought for a moment more, then he consciously, a 100% intended, decided to do something, that he has never done before.

He lifted his right arm to gently push Hank’s hand off of his shoulder, only to then give into that needy warm feeling inside his chest just a little bit and let his arms travel up to his shoulders to wrap around him, pulling him down into a hug.

And Hank’s hands almost automatically went up to his back, first palms stretched out, but then eventually curling into fists, tightening the hold he had on Connor.

But despite his quick reaction, he was still very taken aback by this sudden, very unusual step, with legs frozen to the ground, heart literally jumping out of his chest, the same chest that was now pressed against Connor’s.

And now it was his time to have a crisis, because goddamn, he really didn’t dream that warm feeling up, he knew that now, because it was back there again, softening him at his edges as it dissolved inside him. But it also seemed bigger than what his body could carry. It seemed to seep through his skin and travel through to Connor too, the warmth coating them both up, redrawing their contours, melting them into each other.

Connor’s hands were on his back too, pressing down and Hank felt both big and strong but also small and fragile at the same time in the face of Connor’s pure affection for him and he almost couldn’t believe he made this step, couldn’t believe they were standing there, pressed against his car, holding each other close.

Embracing.

And it all felt too good, having him there felt like everything he ever needed, as if getting this simple touch was exactly the kind of thing that opened the gate inside him, that kept on holding him back from reaching happiness.

Or a conclusion. About something...

Hank let his head fall onto his shoulder and as he breathed out and let all the tension fall away from him, his mind still continued to rush around inside his skull, thoughts coming to the surface while others faded away.

There were so many things in this situation that made his head spin, he would’ve never been able to catch onto all of them but…

His weirdly distinct, somehow metallic, but also very unique smell reaching his nose, stopping Hank's heartbeat for just a second.

His breathing, mechanic or not, but still in his ears. His chest elevating against him, with the movement.

His hand gently grabbing his coat, hanging onto him, perfectly trusting him that he’ll hold him and not let him fall to the ground.

Hank couldn’t help but pull him closer a bit, all functions of his brain temporarily turning off, while he breathed him in for a moment more, the warmth in his chest reaching a different modality and seeming almost _loud_ now. He could feel Connor’s hands also tighten around him, as he huffed out a laugh next to his ear and ran a hand across his back, slowly, gently.

And then something shattered inside Hank, almost like a bullet ripping through him, violent, but not entirely. There was a serenity in the way that that something broke inside him. There were no loud bangs anywhere, no fireworks, no nothing. Just a small crack on the walls keeping his mind intact before everything exploded into fragments, making him realize something, making him see clearly for the first time in weeks.

He felt like he just experienced something similar to what Connor described as the 'wall breaking experience' of their deviation. He felt like this hug, this sort of declaration of true, honest affection broke down a wall in him, taking it down without even asking for permission. And he has awaken from his denial now and with eyes wide-open he was stumbling out of the dark into the light and he finally understood what has been going on inside him all this time. He finally understood what these strangely familiar and yet so very out of the ordinary feelings were.

Or more like, what this one particular feeling was.

But thankfully on the outside nothing showed of his quiet crisis. Like nothing happened, he just stayed put, feeling Connor pull away and letting him do it, hell, even taking a step back himself, while the warmth turned into something entirely different.

An ache. A fucking ache. He ignored it, tried to numb it out while he vaguely heard Connor’s voice come from the distance, but didn’t quite manage to get what he was saying. He looked at his face and judging by how the depth of the pain inside his chest significantly increased, just by that simple glance he was starting to realize, that he was even deeper than he ever imagined.

Way, way deeper.

He muttered out a _‘let’s go home’_ , like nothing was going on, then they got into the car and he inserted the key into the ignition, then realigned the gearstick, ignoring his mind, ignoring the pain.

But the minute they were ready to go and they could feel the atmosphere shifting, the cold dead night settling down between them, Hank looked at him for a moment, wanting to see him, wanting to hold onto the thought of him being there, the thought of him coming back home with him.

He wanted him to drown out the noise inside his mind with his presence, to drown out the violent screams, the desperate begging.

And he caught his eyes through the dark, but the minute they reconnected his chest started to ache at the thought of touching him again, at the thought of reaching out, at holding his hand, at touching his face, at…

He turned away quickly, but he couldn’t run away from what he found, from what he realized out there, when he had Connor in his arms. He couldn’t build the wall that kept him from seeing the truth from all this time, back up again. It had shattered and now there was nothing keeping him from understanding his feelings perfectly clear.

That one, specific feeling, he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

 _I’m in love with you, huh?_ the thought stumbled out of his mind and his hands tightened on the steering wheel when he felt his chest pulsate again.

_I’m really fucking in love with you, huh?_

He exhaled then and tried to make that thought get away from him, tried to hit it hard on the head and then keep it in a closet forever and ever, but that was not possible anymore. The wall was broken and there was nothing protecting him from facing the truth now.

He knew, that this was exactly what he fucking thought it was, but he couldn’t really process what that all meant, right now. He couldn't really look the truth in the eye and have a conversation with it. Not yet.

So all that was in his head right then, was one sentence on loop, drifting up for air, demanding to be heard.

 _'Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed_.’

Wait- was that…?

Oh. Of fucking course.

Anna fucking Karenina.

What a perfect timing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank: you're beautiful  
> connor: OMG!!! does he mean me, or everyone on earth????? oh shucks he must mean everyone, right, haha i mean why would he even say that to me...  
> hank, looking at the camera like he's on the office: ....
> 
> north being absolutely miserable: i felt all these people love each other and it fucked me up good  
> simon: you know... we also love you...  
> north, spraying him with some water: YUCK! BAD SIMON! SHOO! TAKE YOUR EMOTIONS AWAY FROM MY PORCH YOU UGLY WILD ANIMAL! 
> 
> connor, pulling an entire presentation out his ass: GOD IS REAL WELCOME TO MY CHRISTIAN CHANNEL  
> simon and north: *playing the x-files theme*
> 
> hank: laurel  
> connor: yanny?  
> hjank: LAUREL  
> connor: yANNY???  
> markus, from inside: curious... they are saying the exact same thing and yet they are shouting at each other as if they are arguing... do they realize they are saying the exact same thing, except slightly differently?


	12. Cornered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this one needs a lot of content warnings, be safe my dudes, this chapter is an. Incredibly Heavy One.
> 
> [cws: very strong negative self-talk, like a lot of that, I'm not kidding, suicide ideation, mention of drug and alcohol abuse, very mild drug abuse, vomiting, talk about cole's death and hank's guilt over it]

After they finally got going they managed to get home pretty fast, especially considering the weather.

They didn’t really talk, didn’t really need to. Connor occasionally updated him about the roadworks ahead and the state of the ice and Hank hummed once or twice back at him, but those were the only interactions that happened between them during the full 21 minutes it took to drive home. Not a long one.

And while some soft jazz played from the radio (Connor chose the genre and the album) with Ella Fitzgerald musing something across the silence, Hank Anderson really really knew that all he needed this moment was to _not_ have to talk.

Especially, after that _thing_ he just realized… that one fucking thought, that just popped right up out of nowhere and slapped him across the face, making him wake up in an instant, making him understand now perfectly what has been going on inside him. Seeing it all clear as day now.

But no, he couldn’t just start fucking thinking about it and he certainly couldn’t just go and acknowledge any of that, fuck that and especially fuck Anna Karenina, they were in the car now and he _needed_ to drive. So all that shit had to be cleared out of his head like… 15 minutes ago. Anyway, he might have been failing at keeping his thoughts in check, but he was going to do better now, though.

He was going to stop thinking about him.

And you know what he needed to do, to achieve that?

Not look at Connor.

Connor, who was absolutely fucking mesmerizing still, the yellow lights they passed on the road occasionally flashing across his face. His skin glistening a bit, coated up in gold while his eyes just-

_What did I just say about thinking about him?_ he asked himself with a huff he let out, loudly, just to relieve some of the stress of this situation.

Connor didn’t seem to notice what was going on in his mind though, which was a relief, because if he was to start asking about that shit again, Hank might’ve combusted there immediately just to jump out of the possible awkward conversation that would definitely happen if Connor would notice that he was acting um… weird.

Or maybe, but just maybe… if Connor looked at him right now and asked about it, and even better, if he asked with his eyes carrying that caring light in them, oh shit, then maybe Hank would do something he really shouldn’t even be thinking about doing. Ever.

So, repressing it was a better idea. At least until they get home. Until Connor goes to sleep. _Stasis_. Whatever.

But even after they did get home and Hank dropped the keys somewhere, just to get it out of his hands and he was ready to just sit down at the kitchen table and wait for Connor to say good night, as he always did, before he went to his room and closed the door with such gentleness, fuck, he never noticed how gentle he was around him, he was built to be a literal murder machine and yet he carried this gentleness, it shouldn’t have been possible, he shouldn’t be possible and yet he was there and-

Um… yeah, back to the point: even after they got home and Hank thought he might have a moment to think about this and maybe attempt to rationalize, he still didn’t seem to find peace, because Connor decided this was a good time to sit on the floor, still in his ‘party clothes’ (damn, he looked goofy in that shirt) to play around with Sumo, petting his face endlessly, low-key cooing at him silently, saying _‘we left you here alone the whole night… poor you… bet you wondered where we were so late, right?_ ’, almost like he was talking to a human and Hank was absolutely losing it at the sight of him, at hearing his voice be so playful and soft, at just hearing him and _fucking stop thinking, just stop thinking, we’ll think about this, but just stop thinking for five seconds, Jesus Christ and the mother Mary-_

He, almost as a reflex, went for the fridge and was already bending his fingers around the place where he used to keep his booze, but of course the only fucking thing he ended up finding there was either the big nothing, or. Lemonade.

Come to think of it, he _was_ thirsty. So he poured out a glass for himself and as a quick fix that did do him some good. It was cold and refreshing and definitely got rid of those warm feelings he was trying to ignore- well, only until Connor got up again, stood right in front of him like that wasn’t going to tear him a new one and asked, casual, because of course he was _‘are you hungry?_ ’ and Hank wanted to act like he didn’t hear him, but truth was that he heard every syllable perfectly clear, like his mind was still only focusing on him and only him despite his every try at taking his attention away from him.

Then he, for some reason said yes and when Connor opened the fridge and offered him the other half of his dinner he left untouched in the beginning of the night, he accepted it and started eating. Yet again, not sure why.

Maybe it gave him something else to do other than think. And maybe he really needed that.

Also, it was 2 am now. Great. Definitely breaking one therapy rule there, with staying up way after midnight, but whatever. He could break one or two rules here and there. Maybe. No, definitely. Yeah.

While he ate, Connor rambled on about some books he got from Markus, having a perfectly irrational crisis about where to store them, then after he decided the perfectly functional desk in his room could do, he lifted the bag of books, then looked at Hank one last time, as if wondering if he should stay and wait for him to finish his way late dinner, but before he could’ve said anything about that, Hank just told him good night and gave him a weak smile. Which Connor thought was only due to his tiredness and so he just said it back and disappeared into his room to sleep.

And Hank was finally alone with his thoughts.

* * *

 

About Hank promising to let himself think about the situation…

Well, first of all, Hank didn’t let himself think about the situation. After he was done eating he left the plate right in the middle of the table like a wild animal, then dragged himself into his room and almost didn’t even close his door, before he started to unbutton his shirt with shaking hands.

But every move was making it all worse and he knew why and the thoughts were scratching at the walls now demanding to be heard and he knew they were going to get him if he didn’t get himself to bed soon enough. So he didn’t even finish undressing, he just got his shirt off then kicked his pants to the ground and decided that the clothes that stayed on him qualified for being good enough for sleeping.

Then, because he was a dumbass and a half he took two sleeping pills instead of one, thinking that that would knock him out cold before he could even say _Connor_ out loud, making this whole ordeal way easier than it was promising to be.

But he didn’t count the fact that the pill only kicked in 30 minutes after taking it. Meaning even if he took two, he still had to spend a half an hour with his brain. And his thoughts.

And honestly? He thought that he could deal with that and just ignore his brain; count sheep or go through cases in his head, whatever, but these strategies only worked for him for maybe a minute, before the truth came right up without him even noticing, kicking his door down, letting all the thoughts flood into his brain with such strength he couldn’t surpass them anymore.

And suddenly his mind was full with _him_. With the things he said, the way he looked, his small laughs, the closeness of him, the weirdly warm touch of his skin, his scent, his words, his intellect… it was all circulating in his head, digging up older and newer situations to remember, to see again oh so clearly, just to make him wish for it again and again and again.

_‘Will you hold my hand anyway?’_

_‘I don’t know why you didn’t know that already, but I do need you’_

_‘It’s adorable that you think you could run away’_

_‘You’re full of surprises, Hank Anderson’_

_’I just want you to know that I am really happy I met you, Hank. You changed my life’_

Why why why why why why why-

Why did he say these things? Was he specifically out there to make Hank have a heart attack and die? Huh?

His fucking words and the way he said these things, that constant dip in his voice, when he said something emotional, that dip that has only been present since his deviation.

And those fucking eyes he had when he said these things. When his voice dipped and then his eyes looked…

Warm. Searching.

He looked at the world in such a different way. He processed things in such a different way. He was so calculated about things and yet- and yet so emotional about them.

Every move he made was emotional. He tried to not be, he tried to stay neutral in new or uncomfortable situations, but he never… never quite managed.

Every move of his, even when he was acting cool, even when he was being a little shit- he was still emotional and Hank couldn’t ever take his eyes off of him, every time there was a small shift in the way he talked, looked, moved. When his demeanor changed, Hank’s eyes just stayed glued to him, because everything he fucking did was a goddamn miracle and everything about him was making Hank feel delirious right now; he really felt like like he was going to drown in all these feelings, without even understanding how they even managed to grow so fucking big and harsh inside him without him even noticing.

How did he manage to make him feel like that at the first place? Why did Hank feel like he was going to die of heart failure if he continued like this, considering that presently his chest was screaming at him and it kept on hurting and his pulse was skyrocketing into dangerous heights.

Oh fuck, he was really hoping Connor wasn’t reading his heart from the other room. He knew that he definitely _could_ do it. But he still hoped he didn’t, being already in stasis maybe. _Oh god, let that be true, please._

But also, Connor… fuck, they were standing so close out there, he was so close, his face was in reaching distance, he could’ve touched him, wait- wait, he was already touching him, his hand was curled around his arm and Hank didn’t want to let him go, he wanted him to stay there, he wanted him to be close to him now too, he wanted him to follow him into his room and to step closer, to fucking touch him again, he wanted him to _want to_ touch him, he wanted to learn to let Connor touch him, he wanted him to take this off his shoulder, this fucking _want_ , holy shit, okay stop right there, that’s way too far, way too fucking far-

This was… this was not okay, was it?

These were just some dumb fucking thoughts, that he wasn’t supposed to think about, he wasn’t supposed to think about his literal- yeah, definitely his best friend, yeah, so he wasn’t supposed to think about his best friend like that, he wasn’t supposed to keep thinking about him like that, no that was definitely not okay.

This all happened because of that fucking party. Because they had such a good time at Markus’ place, his brain was making shit up now. Yeah, that made sense, he was just drunk on finally living life, drunk on being alive, and apparently his body wanted to push that deliriousness onto someone else too to materialize it or some shit and because he hadn’t been touched by anybody else for such a long time he was… he was pushing this onto Connor, because he was the only one he could really push this onto and also because he was just a dumb mammal,  a dumb fucking monkey who couldn’t just have a pure relationship, no, he had to just ruin everything and he had to just _use_ everything that was close to him. But if he still knew one thing it was that Connor did not deserve to be used like that.

He did not deserve to be used by Hank at all, just for his own purposes, to feel good or to feel fulfilled, whatever, _fuck this isn’t doing any good, just stop thinking, will you just stop thinking??_

But this wasn’t just about the fact that Connor didn’t deserve to be used, it was also definitely about Connor deserving _more_ than just… whatever the end of that thought was, what mattered is that Connor deserved the whole entire world and Connor deserved somebody who loved him with their lungs burning and their stomachs dropping with every glance at him and their hearts jumping with every touch of his skin.

… Okay, Hank himself might’ve been one of those people, yeah, in fact his lungs might’ve been burning up so much at the absence of him that he felt like the hole in his chest was going to eat him up and make him disappear into himself, so yeah, maybe he was also one of those people who felt that way, but that’s not the motherfucking point, the motherfucking point is that-

Wait, what’s the point? There’s no point.

Oh, right. How could he forget.

The point was what it always was: he was disgusting and fucked up for thinking about any of this and he should’ve been considering Connor’s feelings but no, he didn’t, because Hank was still the worst person alive. Fact.

He was a fucking menace. As proven by all the things that were keeping him up at that point. All those thoughts, imagining Connor not stepping away from him while they were standing at the car, imagining him lean in and Hank, hands desperate, clawing at his coat and pulling him close, closer, bones aching and head spinning and Connor and him and Connor and him and he was disgusting for wanting that and yet it felt so good to want that, it felt so right that it felt wrong.

But what he was feeling wasn’t just something physical.

Well, right now, he was very much drunk on the physical aspect of things, for sure, but that wasn’t all that was to what he felt for Connor.

Connor was the only person, who really got him. He was the only person, that saw right through him, read him like a fucking open book and cared enough to dig deeper, to understand, he cared, he fucking cared, he used to be just a machine for fuck’s sake and yet he _cared_.

He. Cared.

He cared for Hank. He was made to kill, he was made to be ruthless, to only care about his goddamn mission, but still, his connection to Hank was somehow stronger, it was so strong that he risked everything. He risked being killed out of his body by that Amanda, he risked his life, he risked the things he believed in, he risked the revolution, because he fucking Cared About Hank.

And he was so fucking thoughtful. And he was logical and yet emotions confused him. And he was put together and yet not. And he was everything and yet-

Hank wanted him to be happy and he told him that and Connor kept telling him he _was_ happy with him, the fucker, why did he even say that, he couldn’t be serious, there were far better people out there, why Hank, why _him_.

Well, Hank knew one thing though: that Connor could’ve found anybody else in the world, he could’ve got anyone, he could’ve had that perfect robofamily and he could’ve had it _all_.

But still, another thing was starting to become obvious and he realized this with a sort of bitterness but an unmovable certainty to it. The fact, that no one else in this life would’ve loved Connor as much, as painfully obviously as Hank Anderson did.

Not one person could’ve felt the need to pull him close, to just have him there, have him around, have him tell him what’s going on in his head, no, nobody could feel that at the intensity Hank was feeling it.

And it was undeniable now. It was so clear, he was never as fucking sober as he was then, staring at the ceiling in the dark, understanding everything now.

Because everything that’s been going on was just him slowly falling in love with him.

Because he did fall in love. He was in love with Connor.

And suddenly, like a wave, like a whole ocean, it all came crashing down on him, how much he actually felt, how much all of those thoughts he’d been ignoring meant. They’ve never been just dumb thoughts, huh? They were as real as the fact that he didn’t have any booze right then.

Wait _, holy shit_. Fuck. No, these feelings were more than real, they were harsh but somehow soft and goddamn his stomach just fucking flipped itself over _okay, Anderson breathe what the fuck-_

But then his mind suddenly came to a halt with the next breath he took, like it got scared of itself and couldn’t take all of this anymore and instead it just cleared everything out of there, only leaving one thought, one steady thought, beckoning him, giving him the only solution he ever knew.

_Drink._

It was well into the night and he knew it was a bad idea and he knew he was going to hate himself if he did in fact go through with it, but he got up anyway, out of his bed, because hell, what else was he going to do with all of these feelings? He couldn’t sleep, the pill (or more like, pill _s_ ) wasn’t working apparently so he was just going to go and take that as a sign from the universe, that he needed something stronger.

So he teetered out into the kitchen, while pulling on his jeans he found on the floor, hands fiddling, not really working properly, especially because the only thing left in his focus was the knowledge that alcohol was going to help him, yes it was going to make him feel better and he was going to make these thoughts go the fuck away and the possibility that they _could_ go away felt so good, and yet he almost didn’t want himself to feel that good, because another part of himself knew he deserved everything bad, he deserved to be punished, so maybe a gun would’ve been far more well deserved, but that he couldn’t really get right now. Well, the gun he could find, but he still didn’t really have any bullets lying around. That made things way harder than they had to be.

He quickly rummaged around, looking for his keys, clearly planning to drive into the night to wherever he could find someone who would throw some drinks at him, but then a thought occurred to him from the hazy fog that was weirdly coating his mind up now.

After drinking, and coming home, Connor would fucking see him.

Connor would see him and be so fucking disappointed, holy shit, his eyes would probably cut him up, just imagining that already hurt way too fucking much.

And oh shit no, nah, he could do without those sad puppy eyes right now and his adorable fucking confusion and those hands that could’ve suffocated the life out of him and just-

_Fuck it, this is too much, let’s just drink_ , the voice whispered again and he was not arguing anymore, he just obeyed it, being on autopilot, while he put his shoes back on and he was fucking ready to give in, so there was no need to think anymore, because he was going to drown those thoughts and he was gonna feel awful about it the way he was supposed to-

But that promise still didn’t stop his thoughts. Oh no, it didn’t.

Because he couldn’t deny any of these feelings anymore, he could drink as much as he wanted, but it would still all be so fucking obvious and it _was going to be_ obvious and Connor was definitely going to find out at some point, because these feelings were definitely there and they were big and he was 53 fucking years old and he was too fucking old to feel all of those jumpy-loopy things his heart did every time Connor said his sappy shit he said all the goddamn time, because he couldn’t shut the fuck up, huh, now could he?

_Also, let’s not forget, that Connor’s an android, for fuck’s sake_ , his brain reminded him, as if he didn’t know already, _he’s_ _perfect and good and kind and doesn't have any flaws, and here I motherfucking am, the definition of a big fucking flaw on the face of the Earth, yeah, match made in heaven, this is definitely what he motherfucking wants you disgusting shit._

It was way past 3 am, some part of him realized, as if it mattered, as if any of this mattered now, as if time fucking mattered, nothing mattered, what mattered was that he was going to get three bottles of whiskey and he was going to pour all of that into his body, because fuck everything, that’s why, _and where the fuck are the keys, anyway???_

But of course that was when the pills finally kicked him right in the head and with all the walking around he had been doing, instead of making him sleepy they just made him nauseous, and because he still kept on moving around he was now getting more and more dizzy with every step.

That continued on getting worse, until he got to the point, where he felt like he was going to throw up if he didn’t stop and also he was now very sure that if he did indeed get into the car he was going to kill someone on the streets, like straight-up.

And some part of him felt even more nauseous at the thought of that. Because no, not again. Not fucking again, he killed enough, it was enough, _he_ was already far too much.

If only Hank could’ve died right there, that would’ve been better, why wasn’t it him? Who the fuck decided these things and _where the fuck were those keys, seriously??_

While trying to come up with a solution, he was also having an urge to keep torturing himself, so he, with legs that were not really working properly anymore, continued walking around, looking for any kind of way to knock himself out, meanwhile starting to count how many rules he was going to break, in a way calculating how bad of a person he truly was: 

Because firstly, he was already up after midnight, meaning that he wasn’t sleeping at a normal time, meaning that he wasn’t going to get enough sleep, which would definitely result in him being tired and therefore grumpy in the morning and he’ll just be a dick to everyone and then he’ll start hating himself again, so he’ll drink again in the night and there you go, back in the devil’s circle again, _congratulations Anderson, you played yourself_.

Secondly, but also foremostly (he didn’t know why this wasn’t the first item on his list, but he was also very dizzy, so maybe that excused it) he was going to break his almost 4 weeks without drinking pledge, because he was, you guessed it: going to drink. No idea how, but he was fucking _going to_.

And that was a no-go, because he was literally about to drink his problems away again and that was the one well-known bad coping mechanism he had that he’d been working on so hard to get rid of and never use again.

Anybody with a little bit of common sense would have known that this was a recipe for a big disaster and one would also think Hank would’ve stopped still trying to go through with this, after realizing what he was really doing here, but his world got turned upside down and nothing made sense to him anymore so he didn’t stop, he didn’t even think anything mattered anymore.

Because he didn’t want to face that this was happening. First, he didn’t want to face the fact that he had… that he had fallen in love with the one person he really didn’t want to drive away, and then secondly he didn’t want to face the future with this knowledge, he didn’t want Connor to know, he didn’t want Connor to feel bad for him, he didn’t want…

_Fuck._

He wanted to drink as much as he could to make himself either die or throw up or die while throwing up or any other combination of those. Because you see, he fucked up.

In multiple ways. Because let’s say it out loud again for the people in the back, he fell in love with Connor. So fucking deeply in fact, that it was almost laughable.

Because of course he did. Of course he fucking did.

And Connor would definitely catch up onto that fact and then goodbye peaceful and comfortable and so goddamn happy life they had there, because Connor would definitely hate the idea of this, and he should, he motherfucking should, especially because Hank promised him peace and a home and he was now ruining every aspect of that.

But he of course had to fuck things up, he always did, so what’s new, he didn’t even deserve happiness in the first place, because he always found a way to destroy it and everyone involved and he should have listened to himself and not let himself get attached because he couldn’t fucking be a normal person this time either, no, he had to develop these feelings and fuck, the truth was going to eventually slip out and then Connor would leave, because why would he stay?

Or no, you know what? Connor would probably fucking stay instead and fucking pity him, which would be even worse, but Connor as the good person he was wouldn’t say anything about it, maybe he'd even offer himself up or some shit, which would be… literally the worst case scenario.

He didn’t want pity. Not that. He didn’t want Connor in a fake way.

He wanted him in the realest way he could ever have him.

And despite whatever the shit had been going on between them for the past few days… or maybe weeks, with the late night phone calls and the soft voices which then got accompanied by eyes and touches and so many close situations, where they were just in each other’s space, not even mentioning it, just comfortable, there and… anyway, point was that despite these instances, Hank knew for a fact that there was no way Connor reciprocated his feelings; rightly so, because he deserved better than him and this situation.

And fuck, he did deserve better, and he was _definitely_ going to find somebody else. Ouch.

No. It’s not his place to hurt because of that. Nope. No hurting, he decided, while he was definitely hurting and almost collapsed in on himself, while trying to walk back into the kitchen.

And in the midst of his wallowing in deep self-hatred and a different, but still painful guilt, somewhere along the way, while his mind was not available for decision-making, in one second of his consciousness returning he spotted the keys on top of the microwave (who the fuck left it there?) and he, in a moment of glory decided this was it, the sign he was waiting for to really get a move on now, and so he made himself keep going, with legs wobbling around, only to then absolutely break everything he came in contact with, along the way.

Shit, he realized. He was going to wake Connor, _jelly hands, don’t do this right now_.

But the jelly hands were enabled the minute the pills started to work in his system, so now he was there, trying to put his keys into his hands as slowly and soundlessly as he could, but still completely failing to keep it in his hands and dropping it on the floor. And as he watched in complete horror while it clattered into a steady position, he was sure he fucked up and Connor was definitely up and running now.

There was no point in being quiet now anyway, he thought, so he pushed the coat off of his back, which landed right in the middle of the floor, but he didn’t really care.

Maybe he could still find some other way to fuck himself up real good before he got busted.

Maybe if he took more of those pills, he could fuck himself up even better. Maybe he could permanently fuck himself up.

Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. So he decided to walk back to his room to just pop all those pills into his mouth and wait until death came to take him finally. Or maybe he could go slowly. Feel it out, whatever. Decide if he wanted to go through with it or not as he was doing it. Or something-

_Still a coward, huh, Anderson?_ the voice asked and he was honest to god going to scream then.

The entire bottle it is then, _I’ll show you who’s a fucking coward_.

But he didn’t count the fact, that he was still nauseous. That his body was still not working properly and so when he got to the sink, a wave of nausea hit him so hard, he thought he was going to throw not just its contents, but also his entire guts out onto the fucking open.

Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten that meal he had, he realized then and there. Because he ate those leftovers right before he went and took that pill. Pills. Fuck, the therapist told him not to, and then he still did it, huh? Anyway. It didn’t matter. He deserved to feel awful anyway.

Then the nausea stopped for a moment, so he tried to walk again, but there you go, it was back in an instant. He was really in the deep that night.

Connor would hate him, he knew that.

_No, he will. He will, when he sees the shit you’re planning on pulling on his ass, you’re so fucked up and starved for attention you just couldn’t have one normal friendship with a person, cause you just can’t not throw yourself into his arms, huh? You need to do that instead of acting like someone normal, huh, you pathetic little piece of –_

His mind had a lot more in stock for him, oh you can bet it wasn’t done with him yet, but at that moment, it all still slammed shut. Because he saw it.

Saw the picture. All smiling and happy at him. No care in the world. From a time, when everything was so much easier, so much better, when _he_ was still there and he was happy with him, it was fucking enough, the two of them were enough.

And it was right there, the reminder of that was on display in the kitchen like it had been for a while.

_Cole._

‘Oh’ he mouthed to the picture, like he just remembered something, like he just remembered what he’d been ignoring for the past weeks and come to think of it, he also almost forgot how fucking small he was back then, because he was so small and his body- it was so small when he put the seatbelt on, for a moment he thought he might break because he was so fragile, so small, and he thought he could protect him, but in the end he was the one who broke him, and it was Hank’s fault, his and only his fault and-

That was it. The breaking point.

He pulled the picture to his chest and at first his chest trembled upon contact and he thought that would be it, but then a quiet sob escaped his mouth and he was so surprised from beyond the hazy dream the pills made him feel like he was in, he cried out way more loudly then he thought he was capable of, when the second sob came.

And now, he really needed to steady himself on the edge of the sink, if he wanted to keep on standing.

But honestly? He didn’t want to do anything anymore. He was so done with feeling this way, with knowing that he fucked up everything he touched, with thinking that it might get better when it never did.

He wiped away his tears then with his arm, mind going at a speed it wasn’t supposed to go at.

_You deserved so much fucking better too, but I fucking killed you, I did, I did it, I fucking did it, how could I ever be fucking happy again, I don't deserve to be, I don't deserve to have him, I’m going to get him killed too, if he doesn’t leave I’m going to get him killed, I don’t want him to leave but I lose everything, all the time, why the fuck did I think it was going to be different with him here, I’m still me, I still ruin everything and it can't ever be okay without you around either, I'm sorry I've been selfish not thinking about you, I'm sorry, I promise I don't want to forget you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-_

‘Hank?’ a quiet voice emerged from behind him, cutting through his thoughts like an exceptionally sharp knife, pulling him right back into reality.

Making him realize, that while he didn’t quite fuck up yet and so didn’t really have anything to feel guilty about right now, he still was _just_ about to go and fuck things up. Majorly. He was contemplating multiple ways he could fuck it all up real bad. And he knew that was not okay.

Not after everything. Not after the night. Not after the weeks of recovery.

So even if he didn’t really do anything just yet, he still felt incredibly guilty standing there, nauseous and crying his eyes out, Connor standing there behind him. Seeing him like that. Maybe that’s why he didn’t turn around when he heard his voice, didn’t even acknowledge him, he just kept on grappling the edge of the sink, looking straight down at his hands clasping the frame, not wanting to see Connor’s disappointed eyes or anything else, he didn’t want to see him at all in that moment, why didn’t he just get in the car and drive away at the first place?

Little did he know that Connor wasn’t even close to being sad or disappointed in that moment. He didn’t have enough information about the situation, to be sad.

Oh, no, he already just assumed by the way Hank was standing there, by the no response and the guilt written into every line of his body, that he did something bad. Really bad.

That he drank, maybe. And he didn’t know about the fact that he didn’t even manage to get going, no, and so he immediately jumped to the worst conclusion and thought that Hank _just_ came back from drinking; he went and came back without Connor even _noticing_ him going.

And that evoked some strange emotions inside him: most of them bad, a lot of them directed at his own self. Frustration with himself, feeling like a failure for not being able to stop him, for not even noticing, and shit, Connor was not good at dealing with that many emotions swirling around in him all at the same time. And not just that, but he was also well-aware now, that while he already had a theory about what Hank just did, he also didn’t _actually_ know anything about the situation just yet.

He had to see his face to know the facts. He didn’t have the facts yet. So no jumping to conclusions until then, or they were going to be baseless. He knew that, so he needed to collect himself and assess the situation; look for facts.

Well, at least that was the plan, but he didn’t quite manage to calmly investigate, considering that it was _Hank_ , who was possibly in danger there, who had something going on in his head that Connor could’ve never seen and shit, he was really just not able to think right now and he was in the blue about everything and he didn’t like not knowing about things, no, not at all.

So instead of calmly approaching this situation like he always managed to do at any other time, he felt a rising burst of emotion tumble out of him, making his fists clench, his face harden.

Anger.

'Why didn't you say something if you weren't feeling alright?' he asked, voice firm. Hank still didn't answer, he just slowly tried to put the picture back to its place, hands not very precise and just making it clatter down onto the countertop, not even having enough energy to pick it up again. So he just stood there, frozen in the movement.

He hated that he was almost starting to feel better, that somebody found him like this. That somebody got so frustrated over it.

No, not somebody. _Connor_.

‘Hank, why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were okay after-’ he asked again, voice still carrying that quiet anger. Then he must have realized that that won’t take them anywhere, so instead he exhaled to push the anger out of his system, then when he inhaled again, he just paced up to Hank and gently touched his shoulder, to lead him to the front of the tap.

That’s when Hank got self-conscious and turned his head to the other way, lifting his arm up to wipe the remains of the tears away, aiming to not let Connor see them, to not let him know he was completely in pieces at that moment.

But Connor saw everything anyway. And that’s when all of his anger evaporated. And there was now the worry. The confusion. The realization.

And there came the analysis.

Hank’s heartbeat was elevated, and his hand was still grasping on the keys in it, but… if he _just_ came home from drinking, then he wouldn’t be holding onto them with such desperation. He always tossed the keys out of his hands when he got home, that was a very prevalent thing he did.

So conclusion: he didn’t leave the house while Connor was in stasis. He wanted to go out, for sure, that was obvious from the guilt on his face and the keys still in his grip, but that fact was secondary. Because the clues clearly suggested that Connor caught him _before_ he did anything.

And as he reached that conclusion a thought materialized in front of him, words appearing in his vision, like it always used to, when he figured out a key point to the case he was working on.

And the words clearly read: **Hank didn’t drink tonight.**

Good.

But wait. Wait.

That sentence was correct, but something was still off, a miniscule detail missing from the big picture. A detail, that would tie the situation in front of him together.

Something… something-

Oh.

It’s not _didn’t_. Well, yes, he didn’t drink, but it would be more accurate to say that he _couldn’t_. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t drink.

Because something was holding him back.

His eyes were closing now and then and he had a hard time keeping himself on his feet, keeping himself steady. That still didn’t look normal, but if he didn’t drink, then what was the problem?

…something else must’ve been making him drowsy. Possibly also giving him one hell of a headache. And nausea.

‘Did you take Ramelteon?’ Connor asked, piecing the events together now.

He got a nod, but that wasn’t enough. Now, he was on high alert, fearing the worst, but still needing more details to proceed ‘how much? Did you take more than prescribed?’

He got a grunt and a weird shake of a head. Not an ideal reaction.

‘I asked _how much_ ’ he pushed and Hank forced out a _‘two’_ , while wiping at his face, pushing with both hands, now giving clear signs of being nauseous.

But still, finally Connor felt like he could exhale. Because okay, at least he didn’t overdose. No detour to a detox center then. Good.

But Hank was not doing great, both mentally and physically he was, as he would say _feeling like pure shit_ , and even though Connor had no idea what was going on, he still desperately wanted to help, so he got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it full with water from the tap, then handed it over to Hank, this being the only thing he could think up that might help him.

‘Drink this, it will help with the nausea’ he said, not really lying, but not exactly telling the truth. Because everyone who had a basic health program knew that drinking water when nauseous elevated one’s chances at vomiting their guts up.

Which was definitely a very efficient way of getting rid of the nausea, mind you.

Still not the most humane way of going about this, but Connor was known for his efficacy and not for his merciful ways. In most cases.

And Hank was feeling way too shit to stop him from forcing the glass into his hands. Especially when he was so. Assertive? Someone who couldn’t take no for an answer?

Fuck it, he was being himself. He was being too Connor for him not to do everything he asked him to do.

Connor eventually got two more glasses of water into his hands and even though Hank felt like pure death after every gulp, he still drank most of it.

‘Don’t be nice to me’ Hank heard himself grit out at some point, but he didn’t remember wanting to say that or even making the decision of saying it ‘you don’t fucking know the things I was about to do’

Connor didn’t, he was right about that. But he could guess. He was very good at guessing.

‘Bet you wanna take back e’rything you said to me tonight, huh? About how great I am’ Hank huffed, exactly like someone who was just inches away from indeed puking all over the place any minute now.

‘Hank. Don’t start again’ Connor’s voice was steady, carrying that warning sign over it. And it was so clear that he was not even wavering. That he was still a 100% sure about all the things he said ‘I thought… I thought I made myself very clear tonight. But apparently that still wasn’t nearly enough to stop you from ending up here’

Ouch, whatever was hiding in there in Connor’s voice, it hurt Hank like a truck to the face and he swayed a bit, trying to get the words out.

‘It’s not about you’ he said, maybe way too quickly.

‘Oh’ Connor breathed, still pretty unreadable, but that _thing_ still staying right there underneath all that calm, that specific thing that was so confusing but still stung like shit.

‘This whole shit’s about… me. I’m the one who’s fucked you know?’ Hank grunted, pressing at his face even more now, thinking that if he pressed hard enough, the thoughts would disappear ‘cause I should be okay right now, but I’m so fucking not, you don’t wanna know. I should be happy right now, but I don’t think I know how to do that. I don’t know what to do with good things that happen to me. I don’t fucking know how to _not_ make everything go to shit. Just stop fucking helping me, I don’t deserve any fucking help. I’m gonna ruin everything either way’

He was talking, but he himself didn’t really know what was leaving his mouth. He was guessing it was his usual mantra that went on inside his head. He’s been drowning it out lately, but right now it was stronger than ever. It was so strong it was flowing out of his mouth like it was always this easy for him to talk.

And Connor hated hearing that overflow of honesty. Because he could trace all of that back to its base and he could tell, that Hank meant it. He could tell, that those were overly familiar words on his tongue. And he hated that.

And he got so worked up over that, that he also lost control over himself and ended up sliding a hand onto Hank’s arm, staring into his face, while Hank was doing everything except looking back at him.

‘You deserve far better than how you are treating yourself presently' he said, deafeningly serious; so serious, Hank swayed a bit, and almost believed him. Well, almost believed that Connor believed that but didn’t believe that that might be the truth. Not even for a second.

And maybe it was because the pills really kicked in now, and he was literally only half-conscious and therefore mostly out of his mind, but before Connor could have taken back his hand, Hank, in a split-second of not-thinking, realized, that he really didn’t want Connor to stop the physical contact and so, wanting to stop him from stepping away, quickly touched his hand with his palm, to keep it there, but then he forgot to take his own hand away and so just continued holding it there, that motion somehow steady.

The hand in his hand weirdly warm, weirdly exactly the thing that he needed to feel so he himself could become steady too.

But even as he held him there, holding onto him, asking him to be there with him with this simple touch, he still couldn’t get himself to look at him.

And Connor was silent. Unmoving. Waiting.

‘God, just. You’re the one who deserves the whole motherfucking world’ Hank said, finally mustering up the courage to look him in the eye.

And.

He didn’t see disappointment in his those browns, no. There was only _worry_. And something else. His mouth parted slightly, then it closed. And then it opened again, before yet again closing shut.

But Connor didn’t take his hand away either, instead just stood there too, wondering. Wondering, if he was seeing clearly. Wondering, if what he was seeing was correct.

_Strong affection. Fear. Strong affection. Fear. Strong affection. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt._

The words switched and kept on switching in front of him, the face analyses still wide open, not really knowing itself what data it was collecting. Not really having a conclusion, just… taking the information in that it was being given.

And Connor wondered, maybe for the first time ever, if he was wrong about his theories regarding Hank and his feelings for him. He wondered if he was wrongly discarding the information that was clearly pointing towards there being… more. Maybe.

He also wondered if Hank had lied to him about this all not being about him. He even wondered if Hank was lying to himself about everything that has been going on too.

About the strong affection, that kept on popping up next to his face. He wondered if Hank knew about it. If Hank knew that that was the thing that his expressions were telling him.

But before Connor could’ve really got in deep with that thought, Hank’s consciousness kicked in slowly, but surely, and so he slipped his own hand away and decided to, with that same motion also drown himself in the last glass of water Connor gave him.

But then of course that big gulp of water made him even more nauseous and so before he could’ve realized he fucked up, he, losing his vision for a moment, started vomiting into the sink, like there was no tomorrow.

_Just great_. So the whole nausea thing really was due to the meal he had plus the pills combo.

After several moments of being convinced that he was going to die, given that he just vomited not only his guts, but also his lungs, his heart and his entire soul out, only to then realize he was still kicking, he washed his mouth in an attempt to make himself feel at least a little bit better.

And despite everything, Connor still stayed with him, his hand caressing his arm, slowly, gently. He was there, like a constant reminder to Hank, that behind the pain and the guilt and the fucking confusion, there was more to this life.

There was more, he remembered there being more, he remembered touches like the one on his arm, he remembered words and he remembered eyes and he remembered the night, the friendly remarks from everyone and…

But they were faint. Distant memories of better times, even if all of that happened just hours ago. Right now they felt distant. Right now they felt almost non-existent.

The guilt was making the memories suffocate and all he could see was that life was horrible and even if he felt good maybe once or twice, he was now feeling incredibly bad and he wanted to scream because everything looked wrong, everything was bad, something was not right and he must’ve been the problem here, because everything else just moved on, everything else fit together in his life, the only thing that was struggling to stay in the picture was… him.

He hated all of this. He didn’t even fucking drink, he didn’t even really do anything wrong and yet he was here, his brain all messed up, his feelings all messed up and he couldn’t even be messed up _alone_ , no he had to be messed up right in front of Connor, of all people. Who definitely didn’t deserve this after that fucking good day they just had.

_Fuck._

When he looked up again, after several moments of trying to get himself balanced out, his eyes, like a goddamn compass steadied on Connor.

Whose hand was on his back now, steady and calm and supporting. But his face was so so worried, his eyes were practically drowning him and killing him with multiple stabs to the chest.

God, he really was in love with him, huh? He could’ve put his palm to his cheek to smoothen those lines out and he was just now realizing how fucking bad he really wanted to touch him. But he was better now, a lot more conscious and so instead he turned back towards the sink and made himself stare down into the metal thing and not into the- well, the other metal thing-um, person, next to him. _Was he even made of metal? Can’t remember, brain machine broke._

’Do you want to talk about why this happened?’ Connor asked, after a quiet that lasted way too long.

’No no no no’ Hank gasped quickly, desperate to get his point across. He gulped, trying to steady his body, just to get another sentence out before he absolutely lost control over himself again ’I’m just gonna vomit for a few more minutes, that’s way better’

’In what world is that better?’

’My world, where I keep fucking up and deserve to feel godawful’

Okay, enough. Connor was not going to have this, not tonight and not any night to begin with.

‘Nobody deserves to torture themselves over and over again, Hank. Especially not you. Especially not because of something that wasn’t your fault. You’ve been doing good lately, you _know_ you are getting better. If someone can figure this out, it’s you’ he said, trying to pull him back to reality once more.

’Don’t say things like that’ Hank honest to god whined, unable to stop himself from not-ignoring that sentence. His chest pulsating like hell, his eyes watering again. Because goddamn that was the single sweetest thing anyone has ever said to him. Ever.

‘It’s the truth and even if it doesn’t fit into your self-hating agenda, you need to hear it’

’I said stop saying things like that’ he said again, and it could’ve sounded like a warning, but it just sounded… desperate. If he would’ve been watching himself from the outside, he would’ve called himself _pathetic_ , even.

’Okay, then tell me why, and I will’ Connor said, challenging, ready to debate, ready for anything, but Hank really wasn’t in the mood. He was done, he was done and he was done.

And there he went, doing exactly what the therapist told him was going to happen. Sadness turning into anger. The old story.

‘Cause I killed my fucking kid, Connor, do you think I do this for fun? Do you think I deserve you saying all that nice shit to me?’ he erupted, shouting but his voice still cracking all over the place ‘maybe you should stop helping me and just let me die in peace’

_Oh shit_ , he realized, when Connor’s hand tightened on his back.

Oh shit. He really shouldn’t have said that last part.

Because he didn’t really mean that. Oh no, he didn’t mean any of that. Shit. Nope, no.

He just… he didn’t mean it _literally_.

…Or maybe he did.

And Connor didn’t answer, didn’t even say a motherfucking word after that. He just stood there, his hand slowly sliding away from him and dropping to his side, looking down, away from him and Hank couldn’t look at him either, not after that, and not after anything, he just.

He just needed time. He just needed time to process everything. He needed to process what those feelings inside him meant. He needed to process what that meant regarding their everyday life. What he’ll do with all of these feelings, what he’ll do to accept that he had fallen in love with his best friend who relied on him emotionally and there he was. Just using his trust to betray him like that. Goddammit.

And Connor was still not moving.

'Do you hate me now?' Hank asked then, because he couldn’t shut up apparently. He wiped at his face, getting rid of those tears that managed to find their way out, then he inhaled, his head at least clearer now, the nausea gone now.

‘I never hate you. I just hate seeing you like this’ Connor whispered back and they stayed silent for a moment, before Hank decided he couldn’t take any more of this, so he just turned around and let himself slip to the floor, ass hitting the cold, far too well-known ground. He rested his head against the kitchen cupboard, from the corner of his eye seeing Connor descend down next to him, while Sumo also joined them, laying down and putting his big head onto Hank’s legs.

‘I’m very confused’ Connor said and Hank definitely didn’t expect to hear that from him. From all the things he could’ve said in that one moment ‘I thought… we talked about... you looked fine when I left you for the night and I thought you had a good time at Markus’ too, but apparently you didn’t and now you’re out here and you were ready to get yourself drunk. You got dressed, you got out here, found the keys, meanwhile I didn't even detect a single thing'

Hank huffed at that. A ghost of a laugh.

'Deviancy made you less... thefuckstheword...'

'Perceptive?'

'That sounds like the word, thanks’ he said, then he was ready to just leave it at that, but Connor’s eyes were still searching and he knew he was never going to be free from this if he didn’t give him an explanation. So he sighed and continued ‘I did have a good time at Markus’. Really. Thanks for you know. Dragging my ass there. What’s goin’ on has nothing to do with any of that, okay? This isn’t your fault. It’s all mine. You’re good. I fucked up’

‘Would you mind deciphering for me what that means?’ Connor asked, much lighter, a small smile barely visible on his face, but still definitely being there.

‘Eh…’ he answered, very sophisticated.

‘Hank’ Connor leaned close and his voice was so sweet, it almost felt like Hank actually managed to get some booze, because he was definitely getting drunk on just hearing him say his name like that ‘what’s happening to you? Talk to me’

He hesitated for a minute, maybe two, petting Sumo’s head for a bit, before he realized he couldn’t keep doing this and even if he felt like shit, maybe it was for the better if he actually let Connor know what was going on. Well, a part of it.

‘Nothing, okay? My brain’s fucked up. I ate that pasta when we got home and then took the pill… pills, and it fucked me up and I remembered I’m a piece of shit so I came out to fuck myself up even more, what’s new’

Connor again looked mildly angry then; Hank saw that from the corner of his eye and just to make all of this even more bizarre he almost even smiled to himself at that picture.

Because Connor. Looked really fucking hot when he was angry.

And that was the only thing that managed to stay in his mind, but then immediately he felt like slapping himself for that revelation, because _good job, now you’re not just trying to tie him to yourself, but you’re also objectifying him, you fucking creep._

And Connor noticed that face journey, but couldn’t really analyze it, because Hank almost slipped even though he was in a sitting position, his brain being hazy and definitely not ready to have an actual conversation about all of this, especially because he couldn’t even keep himself steady in the first place without needing Connor to grab onto him and pull him back.

And that was definitely the moment when Connor decided he really had enough of this situation and so he bent over and as he got up, he pulled Hank up with himself, who was mumbling all sorts of things while that was happening.

‘How about we get you back to bed?’ Connor asked, letting Hank find his balance on the countertop.

But before Connor could guide him back towards the hall, he noticed that something was still out of place and a feeling arose inside him, not letting him let that stay like that.

That thing that made him stop in his tracks was Cole’s picture. It was still face down next to the sink, fallen from its original place. Connor picked it up and looked at the frame, looked at the small face of someone who he never knew, but wished he did.

Someone who he never knew but still felt some sort of affection for. Someone, who would’ve not looked anything like Hank for the naked eye, but who looked so subtly like Hank _for him_ , so heartbreakingly similar. He saw the little features on his face. He saw the subtle hint of blue in his eyes. He recognized the same smile. Analyses upon analyses confirmed again and again to him, that they were undeniably related.

And he couldn’t not feel attached to this kid he never knew. He couldn’t not. Not with knowing and seeing the resemblance.

‘I broke it, huh?’ Hank asked, already hating himself for it, already starting to blame himself for anything and everything.

Connor analyzed the frame, only to not even find a single scratch on it.

‘No, you didn’t. He’s fine’ he said and he felt Hank’s gaze on him as he dusted the picture off a little bit, then put it back to its original place ‘there. Where he belongs’

Hank didn’t say anything, but he let Connor take his arm and lead him back towards his room. He let him do it now and that spoke volumes about how thankful he was, how much he appreciated that small gesture from him.

And he continued not protesting against being led back. He didn't even grumble anything under his breath.

He was quiet. Maybe because he was feeling a lot better after that vomiting session and also maybe because he had someone there to rationalize things for him. Someone, who didn’t let him sink any deeper. Someone, who stopped him from doing something incredibly stupid.

Fuck, this was not going to be easy for him. Because as much as he was trying to not need Connor, even if he was trying to stand tall and get himself together alone, he… still needed Connor.

Now more than ever, and that couldn’t be a healthy thing, right?

He wanted to think more about this, but then they got to his room and his thoughts were now quiet, drowned out. His brain was a fuzzy haze and he was ready to sleep, maybe. He was ready to leave all of this behind. He was ready to not think about this until the morning came.

Connor gently helped him lower himself onto the bed, then he tried to push Sumo out of the bedroom (meanwhile Hank got rid of the jeans, feeling awkward as ever, but knowing that if he wasn’t going to do it himself, then Connor was going to do it for him and he was not at all ready to have that happen to him so. Struggling with it alone it was), but he was adamant on staying, so he decided not to be cold-hearted and instead let him be.

Then he got back to Hank and helped him get in the bed, pulling the blanket up to him so he could reach it, but that’s when Hank decided this was getting ridiculous and snatched it out of his hand.

'I’m not a fucking child, okay?' he grunted, self-conscious now and pulling the duvet over his head, groaning to himself.

'Yes, because children don't bury themselves in their bed like you just did, clearly' Connor teased him, just mildly, making Hank groan even louder.

‘Shut up’ he said, letting himself ease into the bed now, turned away from Connor, who was still there, for some reason deciding that this was the perfect time for tidying up all the shit he threw next to the bed.

He wanted to say thank you to him, he wanted to tell him how much he appreciated him still continuing to stand by his side, but the only thing that managed to escape his mouth was a very tired mumble. A very dark one, emerging from the back of his mind.

‘It’s been years. Tell me why I can't just fucking off myself like a normal fucking person?'

He wasn’t really sure he wanted Connor to hear that, but to he quite honest it did feel good to say that out loud, to not keep it in. To just let it flow, not hiding these things anymore.

For a moment he thought Connor really didn’t hear him, but then he felt a weight of another body arrive next to him at the side of the bed, then there was that gentle hand on his shoulder again, caressing, going down to his elbow, then back up. Slowly.

At first Hank didn’t even believe this was really happening, not with his brain being all foggy, not with usually knowing Connor wasn’t like this, wasn’t this outright touchy, this sure, but still tentative. This slow.

He was almost convinced he was hallucinating this, but then he heard Connor’s voice and every word he said slightly resonated inside his ribcage and so he knew then that with that intensity it must've been real, his tone still somehow soothing coming from the dark.

‘If you would’ve ‘ _offed yourself’_ , I wouldn’t even be here. I know you can’t see that right now, but that is how it is. I wouldn’t exist if you didn’t exist, Hank’

'You’re way too fucking good' Hank said, just as a reflex to that. He had been getting so much affection from Connor tonight, it was becoming ridiculous how he still didn’t feel like it was enough. How he maybe kinda felt like it was getting too much, because he shouldn’t have got any of this in the first place.

He was definitely going to spiral again after that, but then Connor spoke again, taking his attention away from his self-hating.

'I learned from the best' he said and that took Hank so by surprise, he huffed out a laugh and felt the tears fill up his eyes, but he didn’t want to cry again so he just swallowed it all up and turned his face back towards the pillows.

It really was soothing. Being caressed like that. Feeling the weight next to him. Knowing, that he mattered. Even if he maybe didn’t deserve it.

He still mattered. And that eased his mind maybe a little bit.

Maybe actually a lot.

And he thought he was only going to feel this for just a couple more seconds before Connor decided to leave him to drift into an unconscious state of mind, but then almost only a minute later his voice emerged again, sounding like it never sounded before. Like he got lost somewhere and his voice was coming up from that deep void. His mind still searching, being somewhere else.  

_‘He saw nothing but death or the advance toward death in everything. But his cherished scheme only engrossed him all the more. Life had to be got through somehow till death did come. Darkness had fallen, upon everything for him; but just because of this darkness he felt that the one guiding clue in the darkness was his work, and he clutched it and clung to it with all his strength’_ he recited, all the while not taking his eyes away from Hank, who couldn’t really see him, but still somehow felt his gaze on him.

He never imagined him being _this_ gentle. This patient. This soft around the edges. But also…

‘Was that Anna fucking Karenina again?’ he asked, almost smiling in his exhaustion.

‘Couldn’t resist, sorry’ Connor said, his hand now stopping at his arm ‘you know, it doesn’t have to be work. The thing that keeps you alive. It can be anything, that matters to you’

‘I know’ Hank breathed, his eyes slightly parting now. From where he was laying he could see the room reflected from the window, the dark silhouette of Connor being somewhat illuminated by the light coming from the hall.

_The one guiding clue in the darkness._

He reached up to his shoulder and he found Connor’s hand still curled around it and as his heart jumped with the sensation of his fingers touching him, he felt the guilt let him go and the warmth take its place, slowly, but very adamantly.

Then he just left his hand on top of his and slightly squeezed, as he added ‘I think I already found what I was looking for’

And Connor didn’t expect that, not in a hundred years, never even imagined this actually happening and so now knew for sure that he was going to lose his mind trying to process this. But right now, there wasn’t really any space for thoughts anyway.

Because the warmth from Hank transferred to him; the exact same way it would've happened with an everyday kind of data transfer. The exact same process. Well, not the exact same. But very similar.

Touch. That was always the answer.

But still, even if Connor's insides illuminated like that all of a sudden, upon being touched, he still couldn't know for sure that that warmth came from Hank specifically. He guessed, that that was what happened. But who knows, he himself could've generated it, like he did all the other times too.

But this time... it felt different. Very familiar, but different.

But still none of these feelings, none of these theories and guessing games gave him any facts.

He was factless in this very new and very confusing situation.

And nothing was sure anymore; or actually maybe _one_ thing was definitely sure on these never before travelled roads: the fact, that Hank still didn’t let go of his hand. Not in the next second. Not in the next minute. Not even in the next 5 minutes. Not even throughout the whole night.

He didn’t let go of his hand, he held onto it.

Clutching onto it.

With all his strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank: god gave me depression because if my ambitions went unchecked I would have defeated him in hand to hand combat by the age of 16
> 
> connor: peaceful night. yes. sleep.   
> hank, absolutely trashing the place in his frenzy in the middle of the goddamn night: sorry, you were saying?
> 
> [also I know this was very heavy, but I promise you the next chapter is going to be the fluffiest fluff y'all have ever seen, especially because we all need a breather before we finally actually get to the Plot™]


	13. So close, no matter how far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> University decided it wanted to be me-phobic and took all my time away but my passion is still ever present so we're back with some deep soul-searching and getting better!!
> 
> Obligatory song rec from this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLfzeEqr0M4  
> (also hi I was brought up in a household that was obsessed with heavy metal and classic rock and y'all don't know how hard it is for my european ass not to just throw some Rammstein in here, like, I'm in pain at knowing that putting that in here would be incredibly out of place sdflkjs)

Hank didn’t remember falling asleep, when he woke up the next morning with a dry throat and a bit of a weird space of mind. Well, ‘morning’. More like almost noon.

But not falling asleep wasn’t the only thing he didn’t remember, oh no. There was another thing: a hand under his hand; the last sensation he felt before falling deep into temporary unconsciousness.

And well, about that hand: he was more than sure upon waking up, that he didn’t remember it slipping out of his grasp, didn’t remember letting go of it, before he drifted off. Which was… yeah, he of course knew that that was... and basically everything else they did yesterday was… not exactly normal. Not normal for friends, at least.

Whatever, he was probably projecting, right? He made Connor do those things. He was fucked up and literally only calmed down when Connor gave him what he wanted. So of course he did give him just that. Of fucking course he did.

_Shit…_

How was he going to live with this? How was he going to leave his room? After everything? After his realization? Just ‘cause he survived the night it didn’t mean he still didn’t know for sure that the right call here would be to take one for the team and die.

_Fucking hell_ , he thought, coughing a bit and realizing that his throat was indeed drier than ever, despite the glasses upon glasses of water Connor forced down his throat just a couple of hours ago.

Also, he stank. God, what a nightmare this all was.

After continuing to sit for a considerable amount of minutes, heavily thinking about just staying in his room forever and never facing Connor ever again, a little voice in his head retrieved some part of his dignity and slapped him right across the face, telling him that if he didn’t get out of bed, he would not just be a disgusting old man, but also a coward.

And being a coward, he could not take.

So he pulled himself together, opened the door just a tiny amount, peeked out through the crack and after making sure that Connor was nowhere to be seen he slipped out of his room to the bathroom then shut the door behind himself.

He washed his face and mouth and tried to make himself look like a person who was still alive. Well, barely, but still.

Also, where the fuck was Connor? Before coming out of the quiet safety of his room, he imagined him being right outside, anxiously playing with his coin, waiting for Hank to wake up and explain himself. But he wasn’t there. At first glance, he wasn’t even close-by.

Did he…

Was he gone? Did he leave? He said…

_Okay, don’t spiral, he’s probably somewhere in the house, you know him, he’s a nosy asshole,_ he reminded himself, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach that just kept on growing with every second he spent inside and in the blue about what the exact situation was.

So the questions kept circulating in his head even after he tried to pull the brakes on them and decided with great strength that it was time to stop fucking around and face whatever this was. Which meant he needed to leave the bathroom.

And look for Connor.

So he went outside, brushing his hair out of his face, attempting to make himself at least presentable.

And Connor was there. He didn’t even have to search for him. He was just right there in the living room. Reading.

He looked up to greet him, but Hank wasn’t quite ready yet to engage in normal human interactions, so he just awkwardly shunned his eyes away, scratching the nape of his neck, before turning away to the kitchen.

He didn’t really feel like eating but would’ve done anything just to appear as if he had some incredibly important stuff to do that couldn’t have possibly involved talking, so he quickly made himself some toast and forced it down, all while being fully-aware that Connor was watching him from where he was sitting, but he wasn’t going to call him out for that, wasn’t going to risk triggering an entire conversation. He couldn’t, not today.

He felt like it was understood on both sides why he didn’t really want to talk. Why he was so quiet.

But even if they were acting like everything was fine and so they just continued to hang out in complete silence, that nerve-wrecking something in-between them, that something that they both knew needed to be addressed at some point was still ever present, crushing their insides with every passing minute spent with swallowing the words they desperately wanted to say.

Connor wasn’t pushing him, but his face sometimes clicked into a worried look that made Hank’s chest start hurting and it was starting to be excruciating. The silence, the conversations that needed to happen leaning on them, making it hard to breathe, to do anything really-

Eventually, it was Connor who said the first words, but it was Hank who made the first step, with getting up from the dining table and going into the living room to get a tissue after he was done with his breakfast.

‘I rescheduled with your therapist. I told her that you’re going in _today_ instead of tomorrow’ Connor said with a low tone. And just by the absolute certainty in his voice, Hank knew there was no point arguing about any part of this.

He wasn’t really in a state of mind where he would’ve had any right to argue, to begin with.

‘Yeah, okay. Maybe that’s for the better’ he grunted, wiping the butter off his hands (he was a little distracted, while he was making that toast, okay?).

Then they didn’t speak for a while again, well, Connor still told him the exact time he needed to be at the medical center and sent him the information about the appointment, making his phone beep out immediately as he finished his sentence.

But then there was the silence again. That tight quietness that felt equally awkward and painful. That soundlessness, that put a barrier between them. Something, that they couldn’t just cross this time.

Hank tried to ignore it for a while, tried to just do the shit he needed to do, just get himself to the therapist to tell her he had enough, tell her that nothing she could ever tell him would make him stop, because this time he _wanted_ to stop.

He wanted this to be over. The pain, the confusion, the guilt, the hate.

He wanted his own self to stop.

But at the same time there was that burning behind his eyes: the memories of the last couple of weeks. How great he’s been doing. The renewed hope for the future. The pat on the back he received from Fowler, after he started doing his work for real. Actual work. It was right after he called Reed and a couple others out for mistreating android cases.

And with that simple friendly gesture he said ‘ _Good job, Lieutenant’_

He never really cared for praise or anything like that, but this one really meant the world to him.

Because he knew he really did something good, then. He knew, he helped people in need.

And it was the first thing he really did right after such a long time of continuously fucking up. Of not being able to do things correctly. Being too damn drunk or hungover to work properly.

But then, that one day, after almost a week of being clean, he truly felt the fog in his brain subside and he actually felt happy. Honestly.

He felt proud even.

And then there was that morning when Chris brought his kid in to the Office because of some drama he had with his wife. He, with a tired face asked Hank if he could look after the kid for a minute while he asked Fowler to let him off for the day and he said sure and played with the little guy and managed to make him smile, then _laugh_ , holy shit, those couple of minutes made him almost burst right then and there.

And Connor… he was a constant source of happiness. But not just that. When they talked on the phone and he experienced all the little changes, all the new sides of him that were slowly but surely coming to the surface. New, but still authentic, somehow fitting. Somehow familiar.

Every time that happened, he felt that calm content feeling of knowing that he did something right. That just because he didn’t give up he gave someone else the chance to become _someone_. The chance to survive.

He missed that feeling, missed letting Connor close, missed how easy it was back then. Missed having a clear head about all of this, missed the calm he used to make him feel, because everything seemed to be upside down now and everything was harsh and violent, like looking straight into the sun and not being able to look away.

But most importantly, he missed that quiet warmth. The shared understanding.

Did he fuck it up for real this time? Were the pure feelings gone, just because they had to make room for these… abnormal, raging stabs of emotion?

As he put some clothes on, he really struggled with keeping his eyes dry, thinking about all this stuff.

Because you know what? He didn’t want to die. But at the same time, he also desperately wanted to. And that somehow made absolute sense in the moment.

But despite everything he still got dressed, ready for the therapy session. Who knows, maybe she might actually have something to say to him that might be… useful?

Maybe. Or maybe this will be his last session.

Who knows.

He got the keys into his hands after pulling the coat onto his back, thinking that if he did everything fast enough, he could make it out of the house without having to talk, but then, the exact moment his fingertips touched the doorknob, he heard Connor’s voice emerge from behind him.

‘Can I just ask one question before you go?’ his tone was gentle, tentative even, like he didn’t know if he was making the right decision with talking, or not.

‘Shoot’ Hank forced out, ready for the worst at this point.

Connor hesitated, so he turned around just a bit and he could see him standing there now, desperation written into every line of his face. Still in his pajamas.

God, fuck this situation, none of this was worth it, if it meant he had to see him like that.

He wanted to touch him, just to let him know it was okay. That they were going to be okay.

But god, in what world could this be considered okay?

‘Is there a specific reason why you still want to kill yourself?’ Connor asked, his eyes like knives, cutting into him, searching for the answer. Efficient. Even in a situation like this.

‘Ah, shit. Still straight-forward, huh?’ Hank huffed out, collapsing in on himself emotionally as he pocketed his hands and decided the floor was easier to be looked at ‘funny how you think I can answer that’

Connor stepped forward and that was the last thing Hank wanted him to do.

Or maybe the first.

…his feelings on the matter haven’t really been clear lately.

‘Well, you’re the only one who can. I’m willing to wait for your answer, if you can’t give it to me right now. But I _will_ need you to say something about this, because I don’t know what’s happening with you and I’m…’ Connor hesitated again, hands fidgeting with his fingers as he quietly breathed out ‘I’m worried’

Fuck, this was not going to be okay, Hank realized right then and there and he could’ve screamed at that moment, because he hated this with all his being. He hated that Connor genuinely felt powerless. That he was scared for him.

Hank didn’t want him to feel anything towards him. He didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve his tentative questions, none of that bullshit.

He deserved to die.

…maybe.

To be decided. Or something.

But most of all, this wasn’t the only thing Hank hated. He also just hated knowing, that _he_ did this. With his blowing shit out of proportion and with getting these feelings all up in his gut and with starting to hate himself all over again.

But… now he was starting to see, that with doing that he didn’t just hurt himself, he also hurt Connor in the process.

‘Listen… the last thing I wanna do is make you worry’ he said, hoping that was going to be enough and Connor would just let him go already. But he didn’t.

He stepped closer again, now only being one step away. Like courting a feral animal. While looking it straight in the eyes.

‘Then don’t keep destroying yourself without telling me about it’ he said, serious. Hank huffed, then before Connor could’ve continued, his own voice suddenly rose to dangerous heights, silencing him.

‘This has nothing to do with you’ he yelled, then immediately regretted it, when Connor swayed a bit, visibly considering stepping back.

But then regretted it again, when he saw fire erupt in his eyes, stepping closer again, his hand in tight fists, right into his face ‘This has everything to do with me! Do you think I wouldn’t fall apart if you went along with it? You think I’d be fine?’ he said, with a bit more force. _Frustrated_. That, Hank has been seeing a lot of lately.

‘Fucking hell’ Hank muttered under his breath, a 100% done with this conversation, but deciding to give it one more try to get his point across.

‘No, Connor, this shouldn’t even be a fucking thing you have to deal with. It’s my shit, okay? I’ll deal with it. I’m fine. Or whatever, something like that. I didn’t drink and I didn’t take any more pills. I just. I got sick and I just had too many things to think about and I spiraled’ he said and when he saw Connor back down and look away, but purse his lips at that, visibly still not agreeing with him, he now really had enough of this, so he just turned back towards the door and got the doorknob into his hand.

Only to be stopped by one more sentence, coming from Connor directly.

‘If it’s your shit, it’s my shit’ he said, loud and clear. The exact same thing that Hank had said to him just a couple of days ago. After he told him about that death threat targeted at him.

And Connor fucking managed to find the only crack on his exterior that granted him the path right to his heart, the only path that let him reach in and squeeze it with his bare hands.

Connor was fucking good at talking, he had to realize once more. He could never beat him at this game. Never.

So he just stared at him, hoping he didn’t have to say anything to that, hoping that Connor would understand why this situation wasn’t the same as the one he was referencing, why saying that to him right now was not justified, but one look at Connor’s face and he knew that he just didn’t give a shit about whatever Hank was going to say.

He said what he said. And he meant it.

And so Hank didn’t answer, didn’t even say goodbye, he just turned the doorknob in his hand and left the house, without saying a word.

Leaving Connor feeling like something shattered inside of him.

* * *

 

It was nearing half past 3 pm, when Hank finally acknowledged, that he really did need that talk with the therapist. Oh, god, he needed it like a breath of fresh air.

Because he saw now that his thinking, as always when it came to stuff like this, was inherently wrong. God, okay let’s be honest: he was a dumbass.

There was one single confusing piece of information (=him being in love with Connor) that he acquired and then jumping off of that he came to all those conclusions about what he was and what he had to do, when none of those thoughts were justified. It was dumb. It was childish. It was baseless.

Starting at the fact, that he thought he fucked up big time yesterday. Like, he thought he really was the scum of the Earth for wavering emotionally, for not being a 100% under his own control.

But there was no actual reason for Hank to feel like he fucked up, because he really didn’t. Yesterday was just a hard day. First of all, it was a hard day physically. Let’s not forget, he had an entire shift, then he went to a party. Which was quite something, especially for him.

And secondly, it was also a hard day emotionally. Mentally too. He met a lot of new people and he had that whole crisis about what would be the best for Connor… among other things.

But point is: he didn’t fuck up. He didn’t do anything inappropriate, even if his brain suggested otherwise. He kept his distance. Hell, he kept even more distance than what was necessary.

It was all fine.

And it was going to continue being fine.

And the whole thing with Hank having feelings for him and not just any kind of feelings…

That was alright too. Because he knew that just because he had these feelings, it didn’t mean he had to do anything with it. He couldn’t control how he felt, yeah, but he could control how he _acted_. And he wasn’t going to pressure Connor. At all. He didn’t even have to know about it, it was fine.

And naturally, he didn’t get to this conclusion alone, though, as mentioned before, he really needed the therapist’s help, her wisdom to guide him through his thoughts and his feelings. To help him get out of the fog, get out of the devil’s circle again.

She, among a lot of other things, explained to him that having feelings for someone is not inherently bad and it’s definitely not something he needs to punish himself for.

These things happen, he’s human, it’s natural. He’s not a bad person for falling for his best friend, that happens all the time, it’s okay. It’s normal. And these feelings aren’t just going to go away if he keeps on hating himself, so why bother?

But also, let’s not forget, that he didn’t even have a basis for hating himself in the first place: because these feelings didn’t come from a sick obsession or perversion or anything of the sort.

No, these feelings clearly came from a place of trust and genuine care for the other. An already blossoming warm partnership.

Meaning that these feelings didn’t come from out of the blue: they had a place. They had a reason.

‘After everything you’ve gone through’ she started, serious and genuine, like she always was ‘is it really such a surprise you’ve developed these feelings for him? He changed your life and made you see things in a very different light. He has shown you how to live again and made you feel things you haven’t in years, possibly. Is it really that surprising that your heart wants to see this relationship grow? That your heart wants him closer?’

He was dumbfounded by those words, because she managed to literally sum everything up for him in such simple words, in words that made sense, in words that didn’t have a lick of hate in them. She made it possible for him to see this in a good light. To see it in a non-judgmental way. Just the facts, just the neutral truth.

It was kind of unbelievable how easy it was for her to convert his self-hating thinking into a much healthier one. She could’ve been at least a bit prejudiced, he thought. She was a human after all. He would’ve understood if she showed a little bit of disdain towards the situation, but… she really didn’t.

More so, she straight-up encouraged him. Told him she was happy that he finally came to this realization, given that she already had a hunch that this was going to be inevitable. That how close they were getting was already more than just a deep friendship.

And even after Hank left the medical center, got in his car and fastened the seatbelt, he continued thinking about her serious words, her perspective on the harsh emotions he was feeling.

He decided not to go home for a bit; just walked around a park and thought about things, really thought about them. About what he wanted. About what he wanted to do with all of this. About how irrationally he was thinking about himself, about how those words sounded like the most rational things in the entire world yesterday. Even that morning too.

About how just a couple of sentences cut right through his previous thinking and replaced these thoughts with a lot more rational ones.

Maybe he could learn how to convert his thoughts himself, without needing anybody else’s help with that.

At some point in the future?

At some point in the future.

Yeah, sounds good. And to achieve that, he only had to do one thing: continue living.

And he was going to. Goddammit, he was going to no matter how many hours of therapy it took him to get his brain back into shape.

After he had enough of walking, he got back in the car and drove home, determined to make things right again, knowing now, that he could.

That he also damn well had to.

He got home almost almost exactly at 5 pm to Connor watching the news on TV (which he immediately turned off when Hank stepped inside), with Sumo curled up next to him, now dragging his big body down to the ground, excitedly wagging his tail as he went up to Hank to greet him.

He gave him a weak smile, then crouched down to pat his big head, now somehow knowing inside, under all the confusion, that this was all going to be alright. He was home now.

He knew that his eyes screamed the fact that he had been crying and the eye bags under it really gave away his tiredness too, but he felt like maybe all of this might be excused, especially after being on a semi-impromptu therapy session.

They didn’t start talking immediately, Connor didn’t even really engage with him at first, just did stuff around the house seemingly randomly, as Hank tried to look like someone, who also still had stuff to do and wasn’t just stalling for the sake of it (which he definitely was doing though).

As they were hanging around, at some point Connor started cleaning stuff in the kitchen and like all this time Hank’s been waiting for him to do just that, he offered to help immediately, but Connor just shook his head at him, not saying a word, doing all the work himself anyway, leaving no place for Hank to join in.

That’s when it occurred to him, that Connor might still be angry with him, or at least not-happy with him for leaving without a word in the morning (early afternoon), for shutting him out again, before he left.

He didn’t yet know what to do with how Connor was acting, how much he was ignoring him, though. And this situation also kept on reminding him of the gap that was more than noticeable there between them, a gap that _he_ needed to cross now. And he didn’t like that reminder. Didn’t like how hard it was to start talking.

For a while he just leaned against the countertop looking at Sumo sitting at his legs, scratching his ears once in a while. From time to time looking up to steal a glimpse at Connor rearranging the shelves for like the 5th time since he’s been back. Maybe… maybe he was also stalling.

When he finally realized Connor really had no intention of initiating this conversation, he huffed at the general company in his own frustration and went into his bedroom to get his laptop out instead, then sat down at the kitchen table, writing a grocery list, answering his emails (which he almost never did), clearly focusing on anything else other than the emotional crisis he just had that lasted for like. Days. Apparently. Although most of the first part of the crisis went down all in his subconscious, before his actual consciousness joined in on the party yesterday around 1 am, shocking him with the fact that everything he’s been feeling had a name. A specific name.

And for some reason, still fighting with the aforementioned crisis, his brain decided it didn’t want to let him slump, being scared of his mood yet again plummeting and his thinking getting fucked up with no one to rationalize things for him. Well, no one effective. Whatever.

So he drowned himself in Doing Anything for a while, but then shortly, thanks to the efficient working morale he has been keeping up for weeks now, he ran out of things to do and only then did he realize, that Connor had finished tidying up too and had put on some light jazz at some point, before he sat down next to the record player on the floor, a book in his hand again, reading silently.

Why on the floor, Hank had no idea, but honestly… he got it.

And as he watched him for a couple of seconds, he got this sort of feeling in his chest. Well, among the other, usual things.

_Gratitude._

Because fact is, that Connor really has been a great friend through all of this. He’s been there for him, through every second of his shit and he never backed down, not even when things got messy and pathetic. No, he kept on pushing him and pushing him and by god, did he need that pushing.

He desperately needed that push to keep going. So he could continue not to give up.

And Hank knew that even if he was so quiet with him now, the pushing never actually stopped. He was just giving him some space to make sure he had all the time in the world to process whatever he needed to. And he was waiting patiently for Hank to let him in. But he was not going to force himself in. Not anymore. It needed to be Hank’s decision to let him in. Hank’s and only his.

Which didn’t make this situation any easier for Hank, but of course he knew what was expected of him. Hell, he definitely expected all of this from himself too, so. It all made sense.

So he cleared his throat as he staggered up from the chair, only half as confident as he wanted to be in this situation, but well you take what you can get and he knew that the more he waited, the harder this was going to be. The sooner the better basically.

So he walked over to where Connor was sitting then he, with a loud grunt lowered himself down onto the floor, crossing his legs, back against the armchair. Weirdly comfortable.

While waiting for his old man theatrical act to end, Connor had closed the book in his hands and was now following Hank’s every movement, not really emoting, that listening expression calm on his face.

‘I uh… I’ve some homework. From the therapist. Can I do it now?’ Hank asked in a very vague and cryptid way. Connor furrowed his brows, a line appearing on his temple.

‘Does that mean ‘your homework’ involves me?’ he asked back and Hank nodded firmly.

‘Yeah. I have to tell you some things directly’ he said, a bit more clearly now. The line still stayed on Connor’s face, though.

‘So you’re just going to… tell me things? As they are?’ he asked, suspicious.

‘That’s the idea’ Hank chuckled a bit and finally that seemed to put Connor’s mind to ease.

‘And you will answer the question I asked you?’ he tried and maybe he was expecting Hank to duck out of this conversation now upon the mention of that, but to his honest surprise he didn’t, he just nodded again, more firmly, with a sigh. Connor couldn’t believe this was actually happening ‘have I mentioned I absolutely adore your therapist?’

‘Yeah, like 10 times already’ Hank replied and they shared a smile then, both exhaling a little bit, lighter now. But then Hank remembered that he still needed to talk. A lot. And then the knot in his stomach reformed immediately.

‘Okay so. Uh. I gotta tell you about um. Things that you might not know but probably gotta hear at least once from me. So… uh. Yeah. I think you’re a great person. And an even greater friend. I really don’t know where I’d be without you and uh… I also really respect you, Connor’ he started, saying everything that he wanted to say in a concentrated form, trying to hold eye contact in the meantime, with his heartbeat definitely elevating a bit in the stress of this situation ‘and uh… I want you to stay. I know I never actually um. Said that. Like, calmly. You know, not shouting… but yeah I do want you to stay. It’s good to have someone around here. It just reminds me that I’m not alone. And I don’t just mean that I’m not alone physically, I know you’re really here for me. Emotionally, I mean. And I know that whenever you say things… you know… I know you mean those things. And I never said thank you so. _Thank you’_

A beat, while he took some more oxygen into his frail human body, still working hard on expressing one single emotion.

‘I’ll try to ugh… to actually believe you, okay? I’ll try to communicate in the future. I _want to_ , I just…’ his voice cracked under the heaviness of what he was trying to express. Fuck was he going to start crying again? He tried to stop the tear running out from his eye, but he noticed it forming way too late so it just rolled out without his input, making his words a little shaky too when he finally let them out ‘I don’t wanna be hurt’

Way too vulnerable words for his liking, but he didn’t care now that he finally made himself say all of this and yeah, maybe he _was_ fucked up for putting all of this on Connor, but maybe that fucked up person who he was still needed at least one person he actually opened up to.

Regardless, he still forced out a _‘sorry’_ as he wiped at his face, because he knew this was probably way more than what Connor could take. Or at least assumed this wasn’t exactly light-hearted for him either.

‘I don’t plan on ever hurting you’ Connor said, confused, bending forward to look him in the eye, but not quite managing to.

‘I know’ Hank cried out, then forced it back down again, but it still all came out a bit whiny either way ‘and I believe you, but maybe I’m scared it won’t be your decision, that you’ll just, that I’ll just… that I’ll just lose you. Because that’s what always happens to me’

‘Hank’ Connor breathed, but he couldn’t finish his thought, because Hank was way faster than him.

‘Nobody ever stayed before, you know? So I’m kinda thinking it’s basically inevitable that you’ll leave’

‘But _I_ won’t’ Connor said, words strong and sure and Hank cried out again, half-laughing with the stress leaving his body.

‘You really don’t know that, _Con_ ’ the words tumbled out of his mouth, with a jittery shake of his head, hand bumping against his knee in his movements. It took an uncharacteristically long moment for Connor to answer, being faced with the unexpected combo of Hank showing affection and also using a nickname, one that he never used before. One, that Connor immediately decided he liked.

He gathered himself quickly, eyes blinking rapidly.

‘You are right, I don’t’ he agreed, but before Hank could’ve gone and spiraled again, he continued ‘but right now I’m more worried that _you’re_ going to be the one who leaves _me_. And I think you have given me more reason to be fearful of that outcome’

_Oh, shit,_ Hank mouthed, as the meaning of that reached his brain.

Because Connor was right.

Connor was right to think that. He gave him all the reason to think that yesterday. Oh, shit.

And this was the moment, when Hank knew that he really needed to be there for Connor and ease his mind. He needed to reconnect with him. He needed to talk to him. To tell him. To let him in.

This was the moment. The one moment, where he needed to do it.

So he exhaled, then started talking again, with his index finger lightly tapping on Connor’s knee from time to time just to give emphasis to the most important parts of what he was saying.

‘Ah you mean the uh… yeah. Connor, listen. It’s not that I- shit, okay. I don’t actually… I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t actually wanna ugh. I don’t wanna _die_ , okay? And I mean that. I really do. And trust me I’m also surprised that I got to this point, but… I do wanna live now. But sometimes I still feel like, you know, when I get the urge, I feel like I have to do _it_ , or something bad will happen again. That I will do something bad again. And I have to stop myself before it happens. I don’t know why, okay? It’s just. I have this thing, where I start panicking about the future and I convince myself, that if I leave, none of that will happen. And so everyone I love is going to be safe’

Everyone I love…

Strong words. Strong feelings. He just hoped Connor understood what exactly he meant without needing to answer to follow-up questions.

Because he would’ve absolutely fallen apart if he had to compose rational, intelligible sentences again. Especially about um. That particular thing.

‘How do you know I’ll be safe if you won’t be there to watch my back?’ Connor asked, a very simple question from a computing CPU to a meaty, fried-over-the-years disaster brain’s complex irrational thought-processes.

And it only took that one well-timed comment for Hank, to finally get it. To really understand now.

Understand the word _leaving_.

Because leaving, permanently leaving, _dying_ didn’t just mean he would tap out and nobody would be affected and he could just get his peace, maybe see his son again…

_No._

If he died, everything would be over. He’d never know what happened to everyone still on Earth. He’d never see what the androids did to the fast-changing world around them, that was already getting better and better.

Of course there were newer, just as complicated problems, but- something else was changing around them and he couldn’t ignore that. It was something distinctly better. Something distinctly human.

And he loved seeing that change, loved seeing people wake up around them, start acting like people again.

If he died, he wouldn’t know about any further part of the progression and of them all becoming human again. He would never.

Connor changing the world, being on TV and evolving on his own, becoming himself, finding his own thoughts, finding his emotions… while he was in D.C., that was the biggest reason Hank wanted to stay alive. To see the changes.

The changes, that were still happening. The little things that appeared every day, from seeing Connor sift through his emotions, to him learning to say them out loud, to outright asking for affection, to being absolutely vicious with how he dealt with Hank being a dumbass sometimes, to how caring and gentle he could be at other moments. At how vulnerable he could be.

He had his hard moments with not really knowing how to act with other people, always questioning if he was indeed a good person, overthinking… he had his own crises, but that’s what being human was all about, right?

And Hank loved knowing that Connor existed. Loved waking up to the thought of Connor being in the world, of Connor being right there in the other room.

Hank loved Connor. And he absolutely couldn’t bare the idea of permanently leaving and never seeing him again. Not even going into the philosophical aspect of this, with the whole ‘do androids even go to heaven?’ thing, but… somehow he knew that if he went, if he really left, he’d never see Connor ever again.

He’d just leave him all alone here, in this messy world, where he, as strong and independent and resourceful he was… he still needed a hand to hold. He said it himself, yesterday, that he needed Hank to keep him sane. To keep him levelheaded. Keep him calm.

And Hank got it now, really got it: if he would leave, Connor, at the state he was in right now, being not exactly stable emotionally, still working through all of that… he would be absolutely crushed. He would be swallowed up by grief.

He would probably blame himself for it, blame himself for being unable to stop Hank from pulling the trigger. He would blame himself. And there would come the guilt.

Oh, that _guilt_.

Hank never wanted Connor to ever feel guilty at such an intensity, so persistently.

Because if he would do it, just pull the trigger at some night he thinks he needs to do it… the only thing he’d really do with that is transfer the guilt, the grief and everything he’s been feeling for the past 3 years into Connor, making him fall apart under the weight of it all.

And imagining that as a possibility hurt so much, he was tearing up again, but this time somehow differently. Like he was ashamed of even thinking of doing that to Connor. Like he was already sad for Connor, he was mourning his life, his happiness, his comfort. He was mourning Connor’s life, because he knew that he would shatter it with making Connor mourn him.

And suddenly, like a wave, a violent feeling washed over him, one that screamed relentlessly inside him, making him want to exclaim _‘I want to live, I need to live’_ and as that feeling settled into his chest, he held onto Connor’s knee and like he just got pulled back to Earth, he felt his legs settle into the ground, like finally coming back to reality, finally grounding himself back into life, being one with himself and the life he was living.

And with this realization, with this change of mind, he collapsed emotionally a bit, bending forward and burying his face into his free hand, feeling a strong grip appear on his shoulder too, still keeping him right there in reality.

Connor said he couldn’t have been any kind of God, nor a Jesus, but in Hank’s mind there was no way somebody could hold that much power over him and get him right back on track with just one touch, with just being there, like he did.

There must’ve been something magical, something spiritual about him… or he must have been going insane.

One or the other.

But the amount of times he saved his life was starting to reach uncountable numbers and this all didn’t seem like it could just be a coincidence. It just didn’t.

‘Fuck, you really destroyed me with that one goddamn sentence’ Hank mumbled, between whimpers, hearing the noises he was producing making him at least want to try to get himself back together, wiping at his face as he apologized again for nothing ‘Sorry, I’m crying so damn much’

But Connor just smiled at him then, his hand still there for him, still keeping him together right there.

‘Good’ he said, then never continued.

They stayed there for a few more seconds, both waiting for Hank to get everything out of his system and onto the space in between them. Feelings busting through the walls they’ve built, bricks crumbling and turning into soft sand, the wind blowing the particles out of their hands, slow.

Another strong wipe at his face and some breathy exhales later, Hank pat Connor’s hand on his shoulder as a means of telling him that he’s done crying for the time being and also, feels a little bit, or more like extremely embarrassed, but that last part wasn’t supposed to be communicated, it just happened to also be incredibly visible on his face.

‘How about-‘ Connor started, getting up from the floor and extending an arm to Hank, to help him up ‘how about we find something less emotionally charging to do so you can have a break from talking about your feelings?’

Just hearing that suggestion made Hank sigh with relief.

‘That sounds real fucking great to me’ he accepted Connor’s hand, not exactly planning on really leaning on him for support, for a moment assuming that with how medium-built he was, he wouldn’t be able to pull his weight up, but then he was immediately proven wrong, when he pulled him up like a full-blown metal crane stuck inside a man’s body.

Well, to be honest, that was exactly what he was. But with features. A lot of features.

’Thanks’ he mumbled, not really knowing how to deal with the realization of how strong Connor actually was, just about right now.

‘No, thank _you_. For talking to me. I’m-‘ Connor looked to be in thought, almost shy, almost like he was scared of actually saying the words, before they came out anyway in a muttered manner ‘I’m relieved. And really appreciate you… you opening up. I know it’s not easy after everything’

Hank, 53, male, Detroit MI, just became eligible for an award for almost having the world’s fastest heart attack.

Connor’s eyes narrowed at detecting that sudden weirdly fast beat of his heart, but Hank just brushed it all away, not even acknowledging what just happened and instead ignoring everything and sitting down already at the sofa.

‘Thought we were done talkin’ about feelings’ he said, desperate to make Connor stop this, like right now.

‘I said _you_ were done talking, didn’t say a word about myself’ he shrugged, face so neutral this all had to be teasing and when Hank realized that too, he grunted a long one, making Connor break out in a smile, confirming his suspicion of this all being a joke. But he didn’t continue, instead just leaned on top of the headrest with his elbows, watching as Hank clicked through the selection of movies that were accessible from his TV, making it clear that he decided that that was going to be the program for the night and well, Connor was not protesting.

He clicked and clicked and clicked, until he didn’t, his thumb stopping on the button with recognition, a strange, kind of childish happiness playing at his lips, before he wiped that off his face and turned to Connor to explain why he stopped at this one particular movie.

Connor examined the TV screen: ‘ _Groundhog day’_ splayed across with big letters, along with the production date, 1993. He of course started searching around for the movie on the internet just a tiny bit, not reading about plot points, just the obligatory rating and listed actors combo.

‘Um… I know it’s corny and cheesy but- I unironically love this movie’ Hank gestured around, explaining himself for the embarrassing choice he was making ‘I was there on the premiere, I was like… 7? 8? I dunno, point is, my parents took me to see it cause they couldn’t leave me alone at home and um. I don’t know. Reminds me of a simpler time’

‘Okay’ Connor nodded simply, already closing the blinds for the movie watching session, even though Hank didn’t really feel like they had both committed to this particular activity.

‘Wait- Connor, we don’t have to watch it, I just- are you sure you’re also um… interested? It’s old’

‘ _You_ like it. That’s enough to make me interested’ he managed to close all the blinds now, a smile tugging at his lips. Hank of course noticed that and grunted at him, because that’s how he processed everything, being the civilized caveman he was.

He got up too to put some shit away from the coffee table, taking everything to the kitchen, where then a small discussion ensued, with Connor, weirdly awkwardly telling him that while Hank was at the therapist’s, he went to the mall to clear his head and ended up buying instant hot chocolate with marshmallows that came with the price, but also cinnamon and some flour, thinking that if he made something sweet for Hank, he’d feel better, but he then realized he had never before baked in his entire life and also didn’t really construct a plan for anything specific, he just grabbed things off the aisles hoping they might make everything better.

He of course realized while taking all of that home, that Hank didn’t really need any of that, so now it was all just stuck in the second cupboard and it was. Not fitting in there.   _‘So I kindly request you don’t open that cupboard until I figure out what to do, who I am and why I do the things I do, in this particular order’_ he said, way too seriously and making Hank laugh in the process.

He then also admitted that he stopped at the Chinese restaurant too, the one that Hank liked and got him takeout from the less greasy options available.

Only, because Hank mentioned liking it at some point and he thought that would be good for dinner and yes, he made sure to let Hank know that these were not the best choices for sustenance and so he didn’t approve of this lifestyle, but he recognized that this was a hard time and so came to the conclusion, that he could eat the shit he usually ate, just this once.

Hank was smiling like a goddamn idiot, really fighting the urge to hug Connor right now for doing all this for him. He settled for a push at his shoulder, gentle and playful, asking from his embarrassed puppy eyes ‘so basically… what you’re saying is that my little drama yesterday scared the shit outta you so much that you impulse bought me garbage food?’

Connor looked away, lips pursing as he forced out a weak ‘yes’.

Hank chuckled again, this time pushing him with his own shoulder, not being done with teasing the hell out of him.

‘Hmm… hot chocolate and Chinese don’t really go together, roboguy’ he said and Connor made a noise that could mean agreeing or just simply being frustrated with himself.

Despite all of this, though, Hank still ended up making himself the hot chocolate, given that Connor was right, that was exactly what he needed right now. He also needed the Chinese, his stomach decided, grumbling at just the thought of that.

While he got The Sustenance, Connor got the blankets, more for Hank than his own self, but when Hank returned from the kitchen, he saw him wrapping himself into one, probably for comfort, definitely not for heat.

He made sure Hank was also tugged in, to which Hank looked at him accusatory and asked, half-joking ‘ _are you reading a ‘how to make your depressed friend feel better’ guide right now?_ ’.

It was meant to be a joke, but the way Connor looked away and then suddenly back gave Hank all the proof to know now that that was exactly what was happening and Connor just straight up got busted.

The minute they settled in Sumo also demanded to get up there, jumping at Connor’s left side this time, ignoring the heck out of Hank and making Connor have to scoot over, towards Hank.

Hank was already losing his mind by just that small pressure at his side, Connor being there through blankets, his skin over there firm and soft at the same time. He held onto his hot chocolate with the marshmallows in it, desperately trying to even his breathing out and just. Enjoy this. A night in. After a night out. After a depressive breakdown-

Yeah, he deserved to stop thinking for a minute or two.

* * *

 

Some point during the movie and Connor’s obligatory comments (‘ _I understand now why you like this movie so much. You feel represented’_ he said the first time after Phil outwardly acted like an asshole. Hank followed that up by a grunt and a _‘Shut up, Connor’_ ) the gate that was keeping Hank’s heart under lock-down got flooded by the hot chocolate raising his serotonin levels and he suddenly got this quiet, calm feeling.

A good feeling. Like, a genuinely good feeling.

Comfort. Content.

He looked to the side, seeing brown eyes attached to the screen, the lights playing in them.

_Connor._

He let himself ease into the sofa, therefore easing into Connor, their shoulders and sides touching now, comfortable. Connor also leaned a little bit closer, head almost on Hank’s shoulder, but not quite.

Hank was not going to stir him, if he did decide to rest his head on him, but he also knew that by being an android and all, he didn’t exactly need to rest anything and so. Wouldn’t. Still, the possibility that he might was already enough to keep him on edge, even if the movie was far too predictable for him, given that he’d seen it like 10 times already.

But still, this all felt good. Great. Something else.

Connor caught him staring then and he wanted to look away at that instant but the corner of his mouth turned upward in a very sincere way and he couldn’t help but copy his exact expression, leaving them both with crinkled eyes too fond for words.

* * *

 

 

There was something else about Hank that night, Connor was sure of it. Whether it was the light in his eyes, maybe just glistening from the crying, maybe something else, hidden in the still tired face, or maybe it was the way he didn’t keep his distance anymore, didn’t even try to keep Connor at arm’s length. Not anymore.

Something changed, Connor could read it from the line of his posture, the movements of his hand, the beat of his heart- jumping just slightly at seemingly random things.

Well, not really random. Some of those were quite understandable: like the quiet thud-thud followed by a sudden jump, a BAM, after a compliment or Connor showing affection.

Connor… didn’t do that before, granted. Or more like, he didn’t do that before when they were in the same room.

Before, he alluded to it. He hinted. Yesterday was the first time he actually said things outright.

And ever since, Hank’s heart had been doing more of those heavy pumps. Just the once, every time.

And Connor had no idea what that meant, even though while they were watching the movie, he spent his time multitasking, searching the internet for heart-related deceases, still a bit worried for his health, but after finding absolutely nothing in the medical world about this, he decided it must’ve had something to do with the years of him eating oil with oil on a plastic plate.

No more Chinese food after tonight, Connor concluded. And certainly no more of that questionable food from Chicken Feed, even if he felt at least a bit nostalgic at the thought of that place, given that he and Hank… that was their place. That was the first place they really actually talked. As people. Actually bonded. Joked around, in their own way.

Friendly.

Even as just a computer, not-yet deviated, there was a sort of. Acknowledgement in him at the fact that they were finally talking to each other. That Hank was talking to him and Connor knew he could ask his questions now, further their investigation.

He felt… he didn’t feel, not quite, but still. There was something in him. A burst of electricity, a wire firing too fast.

Hm.

_Something._

Maybe this has been going on for far longer than he thought it had been. The electricity. The warmth. The quiet begging for closeness, for more, every time he touched him.

Not that this was the time to think about that. Not after the night.

That… there was no suitable adjective for yesterday night. He could’ve marked it as _horrible_ and that wouldn’t exactly be true. He could’ve tried a lot of adjectives to describe that night, but none of those would’ve sounded quite right.

It was good, incredible and bad and scary and angering and horrifying and hurtful and then breathtaking. All of those, concentrated into 2-4 hours.

He didn’t actually go to stasis after he found him in the kitchen like that. Couldn’t, not after he finally managed to beg Hank back to planet Earth. Not after he buried himself in his bed like he was never going to get up ever again. Not after ‘ _I think I already found what I was looking for’_. Not after he took his hand and then didn’t let go.

And then still didn’t let go. And then still didn’t.

His heartbeat and breathing went stable and his hand went limp, but his fingers were still slightly curled around him and Connor debated with himself for hours upon hours if he should let go, (because that would’ve been the appropriate thing to do), or if he should just stay there, given that it was _Hank_ , who took his hand and not him, who-

Well, despite that, he knew that he was still kind of taking advantage of Hank. He was depressed. Tired and his brain got jumbled up by the nausea and the pills he took.

Connor should’ve been the rational one here, keeping their boundaries but… he didn’t _want_ to.

Deviancy and having feelings didn’t just make him a good person all of a sudden. He was still using people apparently, except now he wasn’t doing it to accomplish his mission. He was doing it for his own wants and needs. He knew this and felt guilty about it, but being able to watch his breathing and feel his heartbeat directly from his hand and just watch over him… this was something, that he knew he might never ever experience again with Hank. So he was going to stay there for every minute he could, for every stolen second he could. Morals came second yesterday and while he didn’t exactly… regretted it, there was a definite shame in him when he thought about it.

But now, that they were sitting on the couch, straight-up leaning against each other, knowing that just this, just being like this made him feel this way… he felt like he might’ve made the right decision yesterday.

This is what he wanted. So what was wrong about getting it? About letting himself have it?

Of course just until Hank felt comfortable by all of this. Only then.

But he seemed to.

He definitely looked to be fine with it, just then.

Come to think of it, he looked better than ever, which was surprising after… after yesterday.

But they’ve talked about this. The walls were down. They were going to be okay. He was going to be okay.

And that’s all that mattered.

* * *

 

The movie had ended hours before, but they still stayed on the couch, with blankets all over the place, talking about things from every genre: philosophy and morals to name some, Connor going way in-depth with his analyses and Hank being more than happy to listen to him and sometimes give his own take on things.

At some point during the night, he, who knows why, also put a classic rock mix on the record player, an old ‘Hit list’ that he probably stole from his father at some point. Or uh… ‘ _borrowed_ ’.

After a while of hanging out and not giving a shit about the world they were both forcibly reminded by some high-pitched whines and low boofs, that Sumo desperately needed to have some alone time to do his business outside. Before Connor could’ve gotten up to take him out, Hank quickly got up and waved at him, telling him to stay, somehow the familiar rock music filling his energy levels up and giving him the strength to drag himself to the front door and open the door to Sumo.

He wasn’t really in the mood to get sick, so he pulled his coat onto himself, then just stood in the doorway, slightly pulling the door almost closed, to keep the cold out.

That didn’t stay like that for long, because as he watched Sumo nuzzle his nose along the snow outside, then push his full body into it, now incredibly snowy with Hank shouting at him to quit that fuckery, Connor arrived behind him, opening the door a slight bit more, letting the tender hands sliding across the chords audible, Metallica playing _‘Nothing else matters’_ from the record player.

Fuck, that brought back some memories.

_‘Trust I seek and I find in you_

_Every day for us something new_

_Open mind for a different view_

_And nothing else matters’_

Hank was gently tapping at his thighs to the rhythm, while Connor just stood there, with literally just his sweatpants and a T-shirt on. In the middle of Detroit winter, that mad lad.

Android or not, that was an insane thing to see for any member of humankind.

They stood there, both watching Sumo play around a bit with a weirdly springy bird, while they kept on listening to the music.

_‘I never opened myself this way_

_Life is ours, we live it our way_

_All these words I don't just say_

_And nothing else matters’_

Hank was almost going to say something to numb out the heartbeat he was feeling rise in his chest, but Connor spoke before he could.

‘Do you want to go grocery shopping tomorrow?’ he asked, a hand now fidgeting inside the pocket of his sweatpants. Probably with his coin.

‘I mean… I thought _I_ was gonna shop. You know. Being the only human in the house who actually needs to buy shit to live’

The street was quiet this time of the day, although most of the lights were still on in the neighbors’ houses, that being the only thing still giving signs that they weren’t the only living creatures around.

Connor looked at the sky, the blurry stars, yet again finding Andromeda, like she’s been following him all this time.

‘I don’t have anything to do and not doing anything is… not the most convenient way I could imagine myself spending tomorrow’ Connor admitted, with eyes that practically screamed _‘please take me with you’._

Hank laughed at the desperation in his eyes, then huffed out an okay.

He wasn’t really against the idea anyway, he usually didn’t like doing chores like this alone, so he appreciated the promised company. A lot, actually.

Sumo got back from his journey to Antarctica then, shaking the snow out of himself of course at the doorway, where else, and Hank hissed at the cold snow reaching his legs and at knowing that this beast was definitely about to take all that water inside and put his muddy paws onto everything he loved and held dear.

‘Jesus Christ, Sumo’ he jeered, while Connor was already down to business, getting a towel and trying to clean Sumo from the snow, with Hank holding him down like a wrestler.

That didn’t seem to work, because every time Connor rubbed him with the towel, Sumo just thought he was getting pats, and started wagging his whole body at him happily, which didn’t make this ordeal much easier.

‘He really likes ya, huh?’ Hank’s voice was a soft mess, which would have been fine, but there was a crack in his tone, that made Connor’s hands stop over Sumo.

He froze for a moment, but then his head shifted just enough to catch Hank’s gaze that was already on him.

Connor’s own eyes were sincere in turn, as if he was trying to ask a question without words.

A question they both knew Hank was not going to answer.

‘It’s late’ he said suddenly, a strained smile on his lips as he got up from the floor. He still squeezed Connor’s shoulder as he walked away, turning the record player off on his way, before disappearing inside his room.

* * *

 

The next morning Hank kind of expected everything to go south again, no reason why, just a hunch. But he got proven wrong the minute he went into the bathroom in the morning to wash his face, because as he pulled his head back to really look at himself and decide if he hated the person in the mirror or not, instead of finding his face, his eyes found, with his only-half-awoken vision a small yellow post-it note stuck onto the middle of the mirror, reading

**‘YOU ARE NOT ALONE’**

written in perfect Cyberlife font. Gee who could’ve that been?

Hank moved his fingers across the inked letters and despite the grouchy mood he found himself waking up to, he smiled so hard at that little gesture, it completely turned his head around in just a second.

Because it did remind him, that he _of course_ wasn’t alone. He was not going to do the dreaded grocery shopping alone. He wasn’t going to get through a whole another day alone. No, Connor was right outside, waiting for him.

He was there with him.

He wasn’t alone.

Going out into the kitchen he did find Connor at the table, reading the news and frowning frantically at it. Hank poked him on his way to the fridge and said, with a half-a-smile, only jokingly accusatory ‘You’re sly’

Connor put on his best _‘I don‘t know what you’re talking about’_ face then, but a little glimmer still spread across his eyes, which he couldn’t really control apparently.

Android shit. It was confusing.

* * *

 

The day continued on better than expected.

After Hank was done with his breakfast they went to the supermarket near the city, both dressed in disgustingly comfortable clothes, with at least 3 layers considering the weather (Connor didn’t really need any layers to begin with, but Hank yet again insisted that ‘he was going to freeze his ass off just by looking at Connor’, so he made him wear his coat on top of a jumper and also pushed a beanie on his head, which he was not very keen on, especially because that last time he wore that was on the day of the revolution, which, while a not-exactly-bad memory, was still kind of… too much).

Hank insisted, that with him being a public figure it might be best if he still laid low and didn’t just trot out onto the streets in his usual clothes, given that his face was still all over the channels.

‘So is this a disguise?’ he asked Hank, like they were going on a stakeout, secretive and Hank played along, putting on his sunglasses in the middle of December, saying with a terrible Texan accent ‘we gotta catch ‘em red-handed, partner’

As cringey as it was, it made Connor laugh, so it was worth it.

After they actually got there they got a cart and with Hank pushing it, Connor walked around, taking stuff off the aisles they apparently needed, even if Hank knew absolutely nothing about that.

And while he did that, Hank chatted with people a bit, just randomly, as they came and went.

Connor of course knew that Hank knew basically everyone in town, but it still surprised him how he greeted people by their names all the time. Just casual and familiar ‘Hi Sharon! What’s up, Greg? How’s the family, Russ?’s being thrown around all over the place.

Interesting, how even if Hank really hit rock bottom, if he then had the opportunity to be around people and engage with them, he always looked to be perfectly okay, looked to be better already.

Connor wondered if this sociable persona was all an act he put on for just these people, or if he actually felt good, when surrounded by people.

If he only reached those lows in the first place, because he was lonely.

He already noticed him doing this way back at the first time they went to a crime scene. Hank was overtly-touch-y engage-y with everyone, he addressed everyone by name, he played the scene, but he wasn’t… overly-confident, he wasn’t playing them. And he wasn’t really cheery either, when he did these small talk type of things, no, he was very neutral, but also. Friendly. Very caring, in a way. It was very interesting to see him like this.

Because he really only did this to connect to people. Giving off signs, that in the past, this was a thing he liked to do. A thing, that made him happy, that he was good at. And the fact that this side of him was coming back meant that he… that he _was_ getting better.

Breakdown just two days ago or not, in the grand scheme of things he _was_ undeniably doing better.

Connor didn’t engage in these conversations of his, mostly because he didn’t give a shit and also lacked the emotional energy to get to know all these people, so he just stood back, analyzing boxes of different types of milk, while still subtly listening in on the conversations Hank was engaged in.

Interesting, because in their base state, apparently Connor was a lot less social than him. Which was… funny, especially knowing how they operated, when they first met…

The next time Connor realized he had lost Hank (again) in the long labyrinth of the aisles, he next found him talking to somebody (again) and Connor, being the snoopy McSnoop he was, stood around, half-listening to the conversation and half-not (he couldn’t really _not_ listen, being a highly functional android, so all he could really do was not really acknowledge what he was hearing, but even in that case, he heard every word perfectly clear, understanding every word spoken).

‘Hey Cindy’ Hank greeted the woman behind the meat stacks ‘I’m lookin’ for some meat to throw in a stew, can you help an old friend out?’

‘My my, Hank motherfucking Anderson! Haven’t seen you here in a bit’ she said, eyes glimmering at just the sight of him ‘you’re lookin’ _fine_ , what’s happened to ya?’

Okay, now Connor was extremely vigilant, even though her tone didn’t seem to be all that flirty, it was just. Very familiar. He guessed they must’ve been schoolmates at some point, by the way they regarded each other.

But still he kept his guard up, just in case this woman was going to do anything he might’ve… let’s just say _not liked_.

‘Change is apparently good for old shits like us’ Hank smiled, brushing some strands of hair out of his face.

‘Hah, can’t relate’ she grimaced as she cut the meat into all sorts of shapes ‘I’ve been here for the last what, 26 years? And honestly, take this job away from me and I’ll just lay down and die, don’t try me’

‘Yeah, I get that’ he laughed. Connor almost huffed out a disbelieving ‘ _ugh, millennials’_ , but he didn’t want to be the grandpa here, being 5 months old and all, but still. These jokes about suicide haven’t been funny since 2029, when the neo-nihilistic craze came in, but they were still out here cracking the same jokes as they did in their early adult years. _Go off, I guess._

‘So, where you off to?’ she asked then, wrapping the meat into paper now, eyebrows elevating dangerously.

‘Nowhere, we’re just gonna get home and watch some crap in TV, probably’ Hank replied, but then when she looked back at him with a slight confusion on her face, he knew he probably said too much.

‘ _We_? I thought you were alone’

‘Uhh, I’m here with my partner. Er… my partner at the DPD. You know. Work’

Very casual Hank.

‘S’That so? Why he shopping with you?’

A moment of anxious silence as Hank’s heartbeat went up, then down again.

‘He lives with me’

She, weirdly, seemed to accept that as an answer, but then when she saw Connor from the periphery of her vision and suddenly connected the dots, she almost yelled out, but then she shushed her own self and whispered instead, ducking down, so Connor won’t see her from where he was standing (he could still see her) ‘shit, Anderson! I can’t believe this shit!’

‘Uhh…?’ confusion settled into Hank’s face as he watched Cindy go absolutely apeshit at this entire situation.

‘Don’t you play dumb on me, I _know_ that face…’ she lifted her index finger, shushing Hank, squinting and trying to find the sought memory in her aging brain ‘wait… that the one from the TV? … Jesus, Hank that’s the scary one, holy shit!’

_Scary one?_ Connor was now deeply hurt by that statement, putting a bag of peanuts back to their place with maybe a little bit too much force.

‘And what about it?’ Hank didn’t mean to get so outright defensive as he did, his eyes sparkling with flames, daring Cindy to say another vaguely prejudiced thing about Connor.

‘Nothin’’ she said, immediately backtracking, hands jumping up in front of herself, but a sly smile still playing on her lips ‘fuck… I guess it’s not really a _‘what’_ but more like a _‘who’_ that’s happened to ya, huh?’

Her tone was now clearly teasing and Hank exhaled. He finally realized he was being a killjoy with being so damn sensitive, while she was just being an asshole for old time’s sake, just joking, not actually trying to be mean.

‘Very funny, can I have my meat?’ At this point Hank was not really down for more teasing, considering that he lived with a tease-machine. But this wasn’t his lucky day, though.

‘Oh no mister, Imma ‘bout to go off right now and you’ll have to take it’

Oops, there it, is. Go off. These millenialls were _really_ predictable, Connor thought back there from the other aisle.

Cindy stepped onto something behind the freezer, lifting her body up, which let her reach the top of the counter and she leaned on her arms on top of it, now leveled with Hank.

‘I don’t see you for months, but even when I do you come in looking like something that crawled out of an abandoned garbage can. And now you just strut back in here with a new haircut, looking fresh as ever and it turns out all that’s cause of _an android_?’ Hank very pointedly didn’t answer, didn’t even show the slightest desire to explain anything to her. But there definitely was a Look, that he was giving her right there, one that clearly meant _‘watch what you say’._ It didn’t seem to bother her though ‘just sayin’, didn’t fuckin’ see that comin’!’

She pushed her hands off from the counter now, then lifted them up again in defense.

Hank exhaled again, looking over his shoulder and catching Connor’s eyes, who then quickly looked away, not a 100% convincing that he wasn’t snooping all throughout.

‘Honestly me neither’ Hank replied eventually, then after he finally got the wrapped meat into his hands, he just muttered a ‘Bye Cindy’ then disappeared into the next aisle too, turning the other way from both the woman and Connor. Looking at pasta on the shelf like choosing one was the most important task of the day.

Connor let his gaze wander to Cindy for a moment, who still had a smug little smile on her face and as she caught Connor’s eyes, she lifted her hand to her temple and saluted him with an over-exaggerated motion.

And Connor had absolutely no idea how to react to that, so instead he just followed Hank into the aisle too.

‘We have pasta at home’ he said, head gesturing at the two different brands of pasta in Hank’s hands he had been examining.

‘Do we?’ his eyes weren’t even focused on those two items, clearly thinking about something else in the moment.

‘Yes. Two entire bags. You might want to take some brown rice, though’ Now _that_ earned a frown.

‘Hm. Why?’

‘You eat a lot of carbohydrates as is, so I figured we could change it up a little’

Hank hesitated. He never let anyone decide things like this for him. And he wasn’t sure if he was okay with Connor butting his nose into his health like this either. It’s not like he was his fucking doctor or some shit. Besides, he has been eating some of those green shit lately to make his brain act normal again, so he didn’t really feel like him commenting on his choices was really justified.

Connor must’ve sensed Hank’s feelings on this, judging by how fast he was to elaborate.

‘I know you don’t want to do it because I’m telling you to do it, but I promise you I’m only doing this to make sure you’re treating yourself right’

‘Ugh, okay, whatever. It’s not like I have a choice’ Hank said then, grumpy, but secretly appreciating the Connor-taking-care-of-him aspect of this.

On their way of carrying on with getting everything on their list, there was a strange realization forming in both of their minds, the sense of calm they’ve been feeling while walking around finally getting an explanation.

Because there were people all around. People, of both species: androids and humans alike.

Just existing together, a clear distinction between them nonexistent, although Connor could of course tell who was and wasn’t an android in a millisecond, thanks to his fast-working identifier program.

But who was what really didn’t matter anymore, it seemed like as they completed their shopping, seeing humans interacting with androids, some of them greeting each other, while others came together at the first place.

Other people, like him and Hank.

In the middle of the grocery store, it really seemed like peace had really been granted.

Their new normal.

And it really _was_ normal, but he couldn’t help but be a little skeptical about all of this, given the news lately that have not been as cheery as it all seemed to be in real life.

The news.

Oh, _the news_.

God, did Hank even know? About the riots? Everything bad that the revolution caused?

He must’ve known about it. Maybe not about yesterday night’s havoc, but the ones before that, he must’ve…

‘Whatcha thinkin’ bout?’ Hank asked, a drop of worry in his voice, god knows how but sensing Connor's panic the minute it happened.

It was nice of him to ask, but truth be told he wasn’t really going to start talking about all those awful things. Not right now. Not today. He was sure Hank didn’t need to be reminded that the world still had its flaws.

So he said nothing, trying not to be paranoid and instead swiping the memories of angry faces and fire out of his accessed memories.

They still had time to discuss everything that was happening in the world. But today was theirs.

The world could wait.

* * *

 

The Anderson residency had never seen that much light in quite a while: the blinds were fully open, letting in the daylight sun, which was incredibly warming that day, despite it being December. The sky was deep blue and the snow seemed to start melting, like it was the first day of spring, which it definitely wasn’t.

And with the blinds open like that, the rooms also seemed to coat up that warmness, the furniture sucking it in and keeping it for worse days yet to come.

Everything just seemed lighter now. Clearer. Sunnier. Better.

Jumpy jazz turning in the record player, the instruments clearer than ever in their ears, Hank and Connor somehow ended up cooking together that day, both of them cutting up vegetables on separate cutting boards, before tossing everything into a big pot of hot water.

Hank didn’t know himself where he got the energy to do all of this and have fun in the process, but he honest to god did and he wasn’t going to start complaining about it.

He even joked around with Connor at times, nudging his arm with his elbow, while he was cutting the onions (Hank’s eyes were way too sensitive for this sort of thing and Connor was an android, so you can bet Hank was going to pass that chore to Connor, for sure).

But he was just playing around with the nudging and poking, knowing full well that he wasn’t actually going to startle Connor and that Connor was not going to hurt himself if he slipped. You know, still an android. He had been stabbed in the hand before and he recovered pretty easily then. And also, he didn’t feel pain either, the fucker.

But Connor did make a huff noise every time Hank did that, mostly out of frustration, which was incredibly amusing to Hank, so with a smug smile on his face he kept on teasing him with little things, meaningless things and Connor caught on after a while and joined in and it was…

Fun?

Yes, Hank was sure about that. He was having fun with… ‘the scary one’ as Cindy had put it.

And yeah, he did understand why Cindy had used those words to describe him, because Connor could be very intimidating when he wanted to, but still... he didn’t understand how anyone could look at this guy with the warmest eyes on the face of the earth and the goofiest smile ever and really be scared of him, when he was so full of life in the calmest, quietest way possible. How anyone could look at him and not be enchanted immediately.

And by god, Hank really did love when he dropped that calculating, thinking face and just seemed to forget about every pressing issue for a while, letting himself have fun, letting himself not care so much.

Letting himself live. Just existing for a while.

‘Sometimes I don’t understand you’ Connor shook his head, after another nudge at his arm ‘you have a lot of sides to you’

‘Well, you aren’t the easiest to read either’ Hank shrugged, a light playing in his eyes ‘but you know, if neither of us get the other one, then we’re on equal grounds. And that’s what it’s all about, right Delegate guy? Equality… okay I’ll stop just don’t gimme that eye’ he said as Connor did definitely just give him The Eye.

But he was smiling, so he knew it was okay.

In the middle of waiting for the stew to cook, the conversation somehow naturally shifted to Connor’s reading experiences, given that Hank had been wanting to hear more of his thoughts on Anna Karenina, but they haven’t really had the chance until then to just sit down and talk about the last thing that made Connor an um… emotional mess is maybe the right word.

Connor was also eager to share his thoughts and so with hands gesticulating heavily, he held a monologue about how interesting it was for him to read about all those different relationship dynamics, all those different character arcs and thoughts and views in just one book.

He had to admit though, Anna Karenina was kind of annoying with her constant moralizing and ever-changing feelings on things. But, he added, she was relatable in a way too, especially the way she viewed her relationship with her lover.

‘I think the main problem in the novel, that made everything fall apart wasn’t the act of Anna starting a relationship with another man, despite already being married to someone, given that, while of course not the best decision, but her choice was still justified, because she didn’t find happiness in her marriage whatsoever. Historically speaking, women were forced into marriages with men, who they didn’t actually want to marry a lot of the times. So I think she did the right thing with seeking out something, some _one_ that could actually satisfy her. She was keeping herself sane with doing that. So no, I don’t think she did anything wrong and I don’t think the ‘sin of adultery’ is what made her derange mentally and what made her relationship fail. What made it fail was the fact that she from the very first moment saw this relationship as something rotten, something sinful. And that carried on throughout their relationship. Even when they were happy, she felt bad about it. So in the end she poisoned her own love and in the process poisoned her lover’s too. Even though their feelings were pure and human. They were real and good, but they decided it had to be disgusting, because Anna already had a husband’

Hank listened to him, while he stirred the soup, a line appearing on his face. He didn’t even know where to start with questioning his thinking, given that sometimes he really just gave no shits about human things, human morals, which yeah, didn’t make any sense to begin with maybe, especially to him but… these very extreme views were still hard things to wrap his head around sometimes, especially when he was basically saying things like _‘I don’t believe in marriage so cheating is fine’_. That was a hard thing to swallow for traditional, born in the last century Hank Anderson.

‘So you think marriage isn’t you know… sacred?’ he was tentative, not trying to shit in his meal from the get go.

Connor just looked up at him and deadpan replied ‘Hank, I’m an android, do you think I care about anything that has to do with God?’

‘Okay, okay, I get it, no wedding invitation from you in the future’ he joked, his chest still tightening a bit at just the idea of that sort of thing being relevant to Connor. With another person. Someone else. Not him.

‘No, not necessarily’ Connor confirmed, putting a different ache to Hank’s chest ‘but if the person I’m with values the institution of marriage, then I will probably reconsider. I do find it a nice way to declare love for a person. To announce your commitment. But I definitely think marriage needs to come from a place of love and not from any other source because any other way there’s no actual reason for it and the relationship will just fail so why bother holding onto it? Although cliché, but love _is_ the strongest bond that can hold a relationship together’

‘Didn’t take you for a romantic’ Hank huffed, trying to cover up the fact that he was melting to the floor at that sentimental bullshit that just left Connor’s mouth.

‘I don’t think this is a romantic quality. It just makes sense. And I like things, that make sense’ Connor shrugged, taking the spoon out of Hank’s hand, probably analyzing something Hank could not see.

‘You think love makes sense?’ Hank asked bitterly, going around him to get to the fridge, to pour some lemonade for himself.

His question visibly took Connor by surprise.

‘Well, in a way yes. There’s a certain logic to it’ he said, now watching Hank as he got himself a glass and filled it up.

‘You’ve _clearly_ never been in love’ Hank chuckled, kind of mocking him, while knowing for sure, that saying something like that to 1, an android and 2, an android, who’s only been a deviant for what, a month, was definitely really fucked up, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to push Connor, to see how he would react. He wanted to see what something like that made him do, made him say. Wanted to know where he got all these ideas from about how love works. Wanted him to just. Say something. Anything, he could dissect, examine.

Wanted to see if he got defensive, which would confirm that he abso-fucking-lutely has never been in love and so got hurt by Hank’s statement.

Wanted to see if he would outright tell him if he actually has started developing feelings like that. To somebody.

Josh and North jumped to Hank’s mind immediately. Then other people, faces he could see next to Connor’s, but all of those were painful, so he just shook them away.

Repress, repress. No need to think about that right now.

He was waiting for at least something, but Connor seemed to refuse playing his little game and didn’t react to anything for a long, long time. He just kept on stirring the stew, his fingers playing with the wooden spoon in his hand.

And Hank didn’t dare actually ask about him and his feelings, didn’t dare ask what that silence was supposed to mean, but he sure as hell knew it was out of the ordinary for him to just stay silent like that.

‘So um… why was that relatable?’ Hank then randomly asked the first thing that came to his mind, trying to make his last comment nonexistent after a flush of guilt emerged in his gut when he fully realized how rude what he just said was.

‘What?’ Connor’s thoughts were obviously not revolving around Anna Karenina anymore, the confused line on his forehead making that one quite clear.

‘You said that uh, in the beginning you said that how Anna viewed her relationship was relatable. What’s relatable about that?’

Connor opened his mouth to speak, taking in a small breath, but then he just froze like that for an excruciating moment as Hank waited for his answer. But then he just closed his mouth again and then physically made a small hunched movement as if he just close in on himself too, turning away from Hank and the world.

‘I would like to keep that to myself’ he said, quieter than usual, somehow small. Smaller than ever.

‘Yeah, sure’ Hank quickly replied, shrugging, acting like it wasn’t a big deal, but truth be told his mind started to spin around this subject in endless curiosity.

Because what could be such a deep secret that Connor couldn’t even tell _him_ , of all people?

* * *

 

‘Are you cold?’ Connor asked, examining Hank’s vitals, just subtly, as they kept on walking.

‘No. You?’ Hank asked back, a smile playing on his lips.

‘You know I can’t be’ Connor stated. He looked down at Sumo to make sure he got enough room to move, but even when looking away, he felt Hank’s eyes still being on him.

‘Yeah’ Hank breathed and there was… yet again something there. A softness in his eyes, a lingering. Calm features accompanying a rising BPM.

>>>Analysis on Lt. Hank Anderson complete<<<

>>>Detected emotion: strong affection [see file for more]<<<

_Just shut up_ , Connor almost said out loud, in his frustration.

This particular notification has been going off all day and he was more than done with it.

Yeah, he got it, Hank felt some kind of fondness for him, great, could his system just move on and not shove it in his face all the time? Especially because he knew none of this could’ve meant a more-than-friends kind of situation.

Well…

No. Just no. Stop it, no.

This was no time for a crisis, on that all part of him agreed, for a change.

And he hoped that was going to stay like that, at least until they got back home from walking Sumo.

Which wasn’t really something that Connor thought they were going to do together, no, not really. In fact, he wanted to take Sumo out _alone_ , while Hank ate, just so he didn’t need to do that later and also because he kind of felt bad about being in Hank’s face all day and feared that maybe he would become too much to deal with for him eventually and so decided to give him a breather, just a bit of alone time without Connor if he wanted to, maybe.

But he didn’t. The second Connor even mentioned that he started objecting to it, saying that it would ‘look weird’ if he just did his tasks for him so no, absolutely not, it’s either they both go on that walk with Sumo, or none of them go.

So Connor had no choice but to accept that they were going on a walk, apparently. Together.

And honestly, going around the blocks of houses then finding a little patch of green, where they could just be completely away from people, being in the cold but not being alone, sharing this with someone… he has never been as calm as he was feeling right then with Hank by his side and with Sumo’s leash in his hand.

And what also gave to this experience was the fact that Hank was apparently in a surprisingly good mood, talking openly, letting go of stressful real-life things for a bit and honestly laughing at small meaningless jokes Connor made here and there.

Laughing, all while looking like he was… light. No creases on his face, like he slept enough and was just calm, happy, there.

Connor wondered if he used to be like this before everything came crashing down on him. Before the accident. He wondered if he looked like this most of the days. He wondered what exactly made him so light now. What changed his perspective on things since yesterday.

All these questions, but there was definitely one thing that he for sure knew, though: he could not take his eyes off that calm expression of his; especially when Hank caught his gaze and just smiled at him with a huff of a laugh. Not looking away. Not just catching his eye but straight-up taking it hostage in the process.

Eventually they went around another block and found themselves in a park, where they sat down on a bench for a couple of minutes before they continued on their way. Hank sat right into the middle of it, taking the leash off of Sumo, literally unleashing the beast for 5 to 10 minutes, before the beast had to be a good boy again and come back so they could go back home. Connor also sat down, but because Hank really didn’t leave a lot of room for him, this decision of his meant that they were kind of pressed to each other, coats brushing against the other’s from time to time.

There was no other soul around, mostly because it was the middle of winter and they were insane just by nature. But maybe it was a good thing that they were the only ones with their heads wired in wrong, because this way they could just be themselves without the pressure of society leaning on them, for just a moment or two more.

Connor thought they were just going to sit quietly until Sumo got bored of playing with absolutely nothing in the snow and Hank got some energy from somewhere in the universe to continue the walk, and he would’ve honestly been okay with just sitting for a while but then Hank, very surprisingly, started talking; quietly telling stories to him about things from the past.

One of them was about a time when he overworked himself so much that his friends forcibly took him out to a Japanese park, away from all of his responsibilities. He went on to say, that that experience calmed him so much, he forgot that it was finals week at the time and just enjoyed the afternoon with his friends, just walking around the park and catching up with them. Since then he always went to parks to clear his head and well, sometimes it didn’t work, but mostly it did, and that was good enough for him.

The fact that he was willingly sharing this information was already very unexpected, but the fact that he just kept going, not feeling like he should stop, not trying to limit himself was literally unbelievable and Connor was trying not to move too much, to not scare Hank away from being so forthcoming, to let him express himself as comfortably as he could.

‘I got that maple tree from a shop nearby, you know the one that I keep on my desk at work? That one. I keep that because sometimes the memory it brings up helps. I mean it’s pretty dead now, but… ‘ he trailed off, not bothering to finish that thought.

‘Is that the reason why you got me a plant too?’ Connor asked, talking about the one that Hank put in his room which was also currently fighting for his life (Connor was not very good at keeping his plant alive either apparently).

‘Yeah’ Hank admitted, while looking down at his fingers, some strands of hair falling in his face with that movement ‘I know your head gets jumbled up too and I thought… maybe you need a reminder too, that things will be fine’

That sent Connor from planet Earth straight to Neptune with how kind that sounded and he had to try to manually dial his emotions down, before he burst of all these gentle feelings right then and there.

His hand slipped to the side at some point, his fingers lightly, almost unnoticeably curling around the sleeve of Hank’s coat, not touching skin at all, but still. Touching.

Letting himself hold on for just a bit.

‘I found drunk Hank an intriguing character. A puzzle to solve’ he admitted, the suddenness of his words making Hank’s eyes drift to him.

‘Okay?’ he said, very confused because this literally came out of nowhere.

‘But I think I like sober Hank a lot more’ Connor finished the sentence, nudging him a little with his shoulder, his hand now holding onto his sleeve like his life depended on it, as he looked at Hank, seeing that same expression on him as before.

‘Yeah, me too’ he replied, eyes focused on his knees now, face turning away slightly to try to hide the smile that was forming on his lips, as he muttered ‘I thought you were cool too, you know. Back then. I don’t think you’ve really changed since then, I mean… of course you did, but it’s just. There’s just more to you now. And I like… more of you’

This was the time when Connor really started to emotionally lie down on the floor and contemplate how much of this he could take before straight-up jumping on Hank and kissing him on the spot.

He was playing a dangerous fucking game and Connor could feel that strong _want,_ that _need_ inside him, the one he first felt when they were standing outside in front of Markus’s house, at the car, when he really got the urge to slam him against the car.

But this was not the time, and also, it was never going to be the time for this so he shushed at that feeling, while they continued to sit in silence, hoping it would calm down at some point.

But that feeling was apparently _very_ strong, and even if he managed to tone it down a little, it didn’t go away, it just transformed into something else: a desire to have him at least touch him. To reach out for his hand that was holding onto his coat. To run a hand through his hair, to touch his shoulder, his arm, literally anything. He felt like he could’ve killed for anything from him at that point.

But he knew these feelings were… not appropriate. Even if his shoulder looked very inviting and empty and even if his head would’ve fit right in there, even if his hand was probably cold and it needed warming up and he could’ve done it with his own hands, he knew he was not permitted to think about these things.

No, shoo, very bad Connor, if you keep on doing that, someone will need to wash your CPU out and that’s never a pleasant experience for the beholder of the CPU.

So he was about to distance himself a bit to get his head back on track, when Hank suddenly got up with a low grunt (yet another trademark thing of his), then, from one hand dangling the dog leash, he held out his other hand, offering to help Connor up from the bench.

He wanted to laugh at him for assuming he needed help for getting up, for assuming his 100% plastic body wasn’t capable of doing that one simple movement of standing up, but then Hank said _‘It’s kind of slippery, gotta watch your step’_ and he was no longer thinking about anything, just his hand extended towards him and so he took it and let Hank pull him up (even if it took him a bit of an effort).

‘Jesus, you’re still pretty heavy’ he chuckled, then as Connor steadied himself, their hands fell down between them.

But they didn’t fall apart.

Somehow, even if both their intentions were to just let go, they didn’t. Somehow their hands stayed together for a moment more, Connor now being able to sense how cold Hank’s hand was in his. How big his hand was and how small he felt when his own was enveloped in his.

But the moment passed when Sumo came galloping back and Hank’s hand slipped out of his, mainly because he needed both his hands to be able to put the leash back on him.

Connor’s hand curled in on himself, forming a tight fist, trying to avoid even starting to feel the absence of the lost touch.

Or at least trying not to feel it as intensely as it usually came crashing over him.

It was okay, though. He could take it. They were already closer than they ever were. There was a high probability that all throughout this little walk he wouldn’t touch him at all, but he _did_. He should be thankful and not have that aching in his chest.

He should be thankful, he thought as Hank got back up, now guiding Sumo, a question on his face, asking if they could go now.

He should be thankful, he thought again, when Hank arrived at his side and with a hand on his back, started guiding him too towards the exit of the park.

Oh god, was he thankful, when his hand stayed there a minute longer, before it inevitably fell away.

Things were going great, there was no need for Connor to ruin their peace of mind with wanting more, with wanting more of him.

Hank was already giving him way more than what he probably deserved. _Let that be enough_ , he thought like a hundred times a day, when Hank finally gave him a crumb of _something_ , when he finally said something, when he finally came closer too.

But whatever, this was not about him or his feelings. This was about Hank, who was finally opening up. On his terms, but he was unmistakably opening up.

This was about Hank, who was feeling better now, who was over the worst of it all and even if Connor didn’t know what exactly triggered him that bad the other day, he felt he didn’t need to know the specifics if none of that was relevant anymore. If Hank could just leave all of that in the past and be okay in the present, he didn’t really care about what got him here either.

And Hank seemed to be okay. He really looked fine.

And Connor could see that. And he knew all of this should be enough for him. And he couldn’t argue with the fact either, that this was even way more than what he thought he was going to get.

So he had absolutely no idea why there were tears starting to form in his eyes, while they were walking back home, his hands buried deep inside his pockets, nails digging into synthetic flesh for also no reason. He couldn’t feel pain after all, so this didn’t do anything for him.

Feelings were confusing and he had no idea why they wanted to pour out of him right that moment, but at least he knew one thing: he was not going to cry in front of Hank, and especially not when he had no reason to do that.

No reason to feel too much. No reason to ruin the tranquility of the day.

No reason to make Hank worry about him, when finally, neither of them was worrying about anything, not one thing in the entire universe.

Well, okay, maybe Hank wasn’t worrying about anything.

But Connor was, in the back of his mind. Or maybe very much at the porch of his mind.

…he was actually worrying about a lot of things.

The radio silence. The quietness of the world. The fact that despite yesterday’s events, nobody was contacting them, nobody was telling them anything.

And that quietness was scary. And not just because of yesterday.

Because of his own demons too. What happened with the shadows? What happened to the death threat? What happened to Amanda? Where did they go?

Did he not have to worry about any of that anymore?

Or maybe he’s just been ignoring the world for too long, and didn’t notice what was going on around them. What was really going on.

He was deep in ignorance.

He was too focused on Hank to see anything else, maybe.

But the world was out there, and it was going to force them out of their tranquility.

Sooner or later.

* * *

 

 

_Manfred residence. 2 am._

‘Markus’ Simon pressed, standing at his desk, practically towering over his hunched form ‘what are we going to do?’

Markus hesitated, his face buried in his hands, but then he collected himself and turned off the news with a blink, now looking up at Simon, but not quite looking into his eyes.

‘We’ll think of something. I’m sure this is just a temporary setback’ he said, now getting up and rounding the table, clearly trying to leave his office and possibly Simon in there.

Simon wasn’t exactly convinced of what he said though and that fact was practically screaming from his face, but he was still trying to find a way to communicate that to Markus without ticking him off.

‘Should we… maybe we should call Connor’ he said, tentative, stopping Markus in his tracks.

‘There’s no need. He’s probably seen the news already. He knows. Although it _is_ weird, that he hasn’t contacted us yet’ he said with a strained smile, trying to get Simon to stop pushing him about this, but there was no use, because he was not going to abandon this topic, given how worrying all this was starting to get.

‘I wasn’t talking about catching him up to pace. I think we _need_ him right now’

A long, stretched silence from Markus’ part, which earned a frustrated huff from Simon.

‘We needed him before and you agreed with me then. Admit it, he was helpful as a delegate. Tell me what’s different now?’

‘Everything is different now’

‘Maybe. But back then we had a choice. I don’t think we really have one right now’

‘Do you think _I_ can’t keep you safe?’ eyes flaring up like flames, Markus was definitely dancing on the line of being accusatory now, which was like a wake-up call to Simon and made him stand down a little, his voice a lot softer now.

‘You know this is not about that’ he assured him, slowly catching up with him and touching his shoulder, then he waited for Markus to physically let out some steam and exhale, before continuing ‘tell me why you’re so hesitant to call him. You know he needs to know about what’s going on, especially because a lot of what’s happening might actually have something to do with him’

‘I’m not…’ Markus was about to protest, but Simon’s other hand came up in front of him, palm gently touching the middle of his front, right where his Thirium pump was.

And that simple touch was enough of a reminder for him to remember who he was talking to. The one person who he could tell everything to, unfiltered. Who has already seen his mind and knows how he thinks. Knows, how he feels.

Who he could trust, with anything.

‘I’m just. You saw him on Friday. He needs time. He really does. We all had time to sort our own crises out before everything and he… he didn’t. He’s managing it, he has Hank after all, but…’

That was all he could really force out of himself, before tensing up again, grabbing Simon’s hand over his chest.

‘Markus, I need you to be honest with me’ Simon said, now facing him, meaning business ‘did you see something in his memory that is making you act like this when it comes to him?’

Markus was silent for a long time, just staring into Simon’s eyes, thinking things through. What to share and what to leave out.

‘When he showed me his memories… his feelings were all over the place. They were distorted but. Extreme. They were way too much and they didn’t seem to stop being harsh. I only felt- I felt some kind of warmness at some point. It was like a shout, but I couldn’t really make out if it was good or not. I pulled away the minute I felt it. And even though he felt it too, but he didn’t even _flinch_ , I just- ever since we came back he’s been… different and I don’t want to overwhelm him’

Markus was worried Simon was not going to understand him at first and he would have to elaborate and even share the feeling he felt in Connor with him, but to his surprise but also relief Simon was already nodding while he was explaining himself, clearly knowing exactly what he was talking about.

‘I understand. I balanced his emotions out once and even then they felt like way too much for me. He seemed to be dealing with them just fine though, Markus’ he squeezed at his shoulder when he said his name, emphasizing it, making him listen and focus on him. And Markus did have to admit that he sounded like he was right about all of that ‘and we can’t keep him in the dark forever. You know that. What if something happens to him, because we aren’t telling him anything? Could you live with that?’

‘You know I couldn’t’ Markus said, now looking away. Simon caressed his face with the back of his hand, careful. Not pushing him anymore. Just being there as support, just holding him in place so he could tune out for a moment. Or two.

And Markus let the feeling that that touch was eliciting in him overtake him for a moment more, before he pulled himself together again, now taking his hand off his face, while his eyes focused back on him, looking at him with an honest look, nodding just a bit as he straightened himself and finally said:

‘We’ll stay quiet for a while. But the minute the police catch up to it too we tell him’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank, stalling:  
> Connor, also stalling:  
> Hank:  
> Connor:  
> Hank: so uuh... there's this thing called... talking?  
> Connor: absolutely revolutionary, Hank. mind explaining the concept of that to me?  
> Hank: uhhh people say stuff and they try to make the other understand what they mean  
> Connor: sounds complex, who would engage in such a thing on purpose?  
> Hank: yeah.....  
> Connor: ....  
> Hank: ...  
> Hank: you wanna do it?  
> Connor relieved: thought you'd never ask
> 
> Connor: I'm such a bad person oh my god...  
> Markus: Why, what did you do??  
> Connor: I..... this is so bad, feel free to snipe me on the spot for it but I.... I held Hank's hand  
> Markus:  
> Markus:..... okay, congrats?  
> Connor: no, you don't understand!!! He was asleep!4!44! I took advantage of him!!! I'm a disgusting person and I should be treated as such  
> Markus, trying to keep a serious look: ...  
> Connor: I DIDN'T HAVE HIS CONSENT MARKUS!! THIS IS SERIOUS!!! WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING!!!!
> 
> (also fun fact: I'm uploading this just minutes before the clock turns to midnight and we get to the sixth of april which is my birthday! which means homegirl managed to finish the chapter before she's taken hostage by her family for the whole weekend haha)


	14. The boys are back in town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *appears with a starbucks cup and sunglasses to a dead party* ummmm hi there?  
> I know I'm kinda late *checks what day it is and how long it has been and cringes* but hey, I'm still writing this beast and I now have all the time in the world to finish it, with my uni term finally ending!!  
> Thank you to anyone who is still here, you don't know how much I love and appreciate you, here's like 30 pages setting up the plot for the PLOT (God, I know I'm difficult, why are yall still here djfkshd
> 
> [potential cws for the chapter: vague but kind of gruesome details about the aftermath of a fight, just general case talk about murder, some threats are exchanged]

‘God, fuck, I missed a lot while I was sulking’ Hank grunted from the floor where he had sunk to after reading the fourth article about the same exact event, articles that Connor had forwarded him in the past hour.

‘I wouldn’t say _a lot_ , you only missed Saturday’s events’ Connor attempted, trying to make him feel better with a smile that was meant to be encouraging (he didn’t quite succeed with that) ‘besides, there’s nothing much that we could’ve done from here’

He said that so casually, he almost convinced Hank that he wasn’t actually worried about the events. Well, emphasis on _almost_. If only that thinking line wouldn’t have appeared on his face when he saw a particularly gruesome article from over Hank’s shoulder. Yeah, that was a dead giveaway.

Hank couldn’t blame him though, for flinching. That article even had pictures. Yikes.

He flipped over to a more informative page instead.

 _‘Neo-humanist demonstration at the White House ends in gruesome confrontation’_ read the article and even though Hank has read every possible version of the same article at this point, the news still made his stomach drop every time he was subjected to it.

But at this point, he could recount the events of that night with perfect accuracy, even if his memory has seen better days: the march started at around 10 pm, a couple hundred humans protesting at the White House of all places, demanding a lot of things really, but mostly they just wanted things to be how they were before the android revolution happened. A petty thing to ask for. But a very cruel thing too, if you think about it.

Unfortunately, the police didn’t take this rally as seriously as they should have: they thought they were just going to shout a little and then go home, so they only got a couple men out on the streets.

That was a big mistake, as it turned out. Because after the clock hit 23:43:24 (an android from the scene provided that extremely accurate detail) a handful of androids showed up with their own grievances and demands and the atmosphere eventually started to get more and more heated up, more and more violent and in the end…

 _There weren’t any fatalities, at least_ , Connor said, the first time he told Hank about this. That was the only thing he really said at first and then kept on repeating, like this piece of information was the only thing that kept him sane in this situation.

But he was right, nobody died that night.

But there _were_ injured: androids, with their arms torn off, some with their head plates missing. Humans, with bruises bigger than their palms, possibly from being grabbed too hard.

Some of them bleeding blue, some bleeding red. A clear distinction.

It made Connor shiver down to his core.

But there _weren’t_ any fatalities.

The police arrived just in time to force the two groups apart and demand them to cooperate. Those who didn’t obviously went directly to the police station for a little chat about public behavior and expected jail time for assault.

And honestly, Connor really was glad, that it didn’t end up being a straight-up massacre, but still, seeing pictures of people with blood on their faces, seeing mutilated androids with anger seeping into their expressions, pure hatred spitting from their eyes was not a pleasant thing to see.

But he could have got over this, he could have accepted it, if this was the one and only time something like this occurred across the country, but the sad truth was that it just wasn’t.

Uproars like the one on Saturday were a commonality at this point. Some have started to call them riots. Gang wars even. He couldn’t say they were wrong to label them as such.

And as he had come to know, a few demonstrations were held in Detroit too, because of course there were. This city became the android capital. No wonder that some people found that too hard to swallow.

He and Hank had been talking about this all morning during breakfast, while he tried to catch Hank up to speed about what happened during the weekend, which led to Hank in turn telling him everything about what has been going on in Detroit lately and that whole deal with these so-called _‘neo-humanists’_.

It was simple, really. They were a newly found group, one made of humans, of course, who despise androids so much, that they’ve pledged their lives on destroying all of them.

They started out as a small, barely serious, maybe even laughable extremist group, but as the political discussions became more and more frequent after the revolution, leading to androids becoming citizens of the US… they have started to grow.

Not too much, but they grew. They were present. They were determined, even if compared to all of humanity, there was only just a few of them.

But it’s not to say that only humans were to blame in this situation, oh _no_.

Humans weren’t the only ones who had their own extremists shitting into everyone’s meal, no, because there was another political group forming, known by most as the _‘cyberists’_.

They were exactly everything that the neo-humanists weren’t: androids, who believed that humans have become obsolete and that the natural progression of evolution would be to kill them all.

…yeah, both groups deserved a little bit of fatherly guidance, that was sure.

But all that aside, the simple existence of these violent groups alone wouldn’t have made any of them worry. But what did, was the fact that this riot in D.C., the one that ended in violence and almost led to a massacre… it has been clearly labelled as a ‘neo-humanist’ riot.

Not as a ‘humans being asses’ riot, no. The neo-humanist group _claimed_ it as theirs and with that being the case, they got a platform to talk about their views now. People were talking about them on TV, on the internet, in the streets, _everywhere_.

More and more people were looking them up, more and more people heard from them. Which could eventually lead to more and more people being persuaded and joining the movement too.

At least, that’s what Connor was fearing the most. That everything that they’ve been building, that everything they’ve been working for would just fall apart.

Like the experiences they shared never happened.

Like acceptance and freedom had never been granted.

Like that day in the conference room never happened.

But as dramatic, as he could be sometimes, Hank was quick to jump in to stop him from overthinking all of this and so presented his own views on this matter hoping it might help.

He was practically sure that most of the people at the demonstration weren’t actually neo-humanists. At first most of them there were probably just organic, simply shitty humans, but then at some point the _actual_ neo-humanists showed up, caused some havoc then collected the prize.

And Connor was starting to think he might be right, especially because the actual fighting only started when the androids (now confirmed cyberists) showed up too, to protest against the neo-humanists (and also the other humans too, who happened to be there).

Of course the media blew this out of proportion and sold it as this big story about how it was in humans’ and androids’ nature to hate each other, saying how it was starting to seem impossible that a true peace between them could be achieved.

Those were strong and sensation-seeking words, but when it came to reality, both Connor and Hank knew that that most probably was just a simplified view of the events and not the actual objective truth.

Hank furthermore estimated that even where these groups have already formed, there probably weren’t more than 20 people who actually honestly considered themselves cyberists or neo-humanists. Per bigger cities. And that wasn’t a big number.

So their actions could be controlled. Their existence was to be short-lived and meaningless. They were going to disperse sooner or later, he said.

But that’s not all that he had to say, though, that became clear, when after a strained silence of Connor only maybe half-believing him, he exhaled loudly, then continued, expression leaning toward irritation. It was clear that he was holding back a lot of past anger, directed at other people. But he was deliberately trying not to show that anger, for Connor’s sake.

‘You know, as small as they are though, the motherfuckers can be real fucking loud. But that’s all they are. Just a bunch of annoying shits who can’t shut the fuck up, I wouldn’t worry that much about it. Even here in D town we’ve had a couple guys throw a fuss, but the minute we showed up, they just bolted. They don’t really have the balls to do any real shit. I know most of the neo-humanists around here personally and I’m tellin’ you, they are _nothing_ to fear. By the way, you bet your ass I made a list of them just in case shit goes down so we can round ‘em up’

At first, an almost smile.

But then, suddenly there was a drop in Connor’s non-existent stomach and a strange sort of feeling settled into him, one that he couldn’t describe.

Wordless, he studied Hank’s face, while he took a bite out of his toast, oblivious.

‘How do you know them?’ Connor asked then, suspicion palpable in the flatness of his words, the emotion withdrawn from them completely. He didn’t know what to expect from this conversation, but he knew that this question had the ability to fuck shit up if it wanted to.

Hank seemingly didn’t get the implication of that query though and in his confusion laughed, pulling his eyebrows closer to each other.

‘What’d you mean? I know everyone, I lived here my whole life, you know that’ he said and when Connor went unusually quiet again, his face scrunched up even more in its thinking stance.

And then Hank got it and almost dropped his toast right out of his hand.

‘Jesus, Connor, how could you even…?’ that was the first thing that rolled right out of his mouth, before he actually realized that what Connor was insinuating he actually had a very good reason for and so Hank quickly reiterated, cutting himself off mid-sentence, before starting over, dragging a hand across his face in mild frustration with himself ‘god, okay, I get why you’re asking me and you have every reason to think of me that way, but fuck, that’s not who I… I’ve never been to an anti-android protest, my whole life, alright? I swear’

He didn’t know where that clear and succinct sentence came from but he was glad he managed to get his point across so easily. Maybe he was actually getting better at this talking thing. Huh.

>>>No lie detected<<<

When that popped up, Connor let go of some tension, although he couldn’t really look at Hank yet, feeling guilty now. He shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have thought that Hank was like…

But he really couldn’t have been sure. Not without asking. So there was a reason for his question.

But still.

‘It would be okay if you were. I would understand. I just wanted to know if you have-‘

‘Now you know. I haven’t’ Hank cut him off, eyes cutting into him, daring him to question the truth of his words, weirdly intense now.

Connor nodded slowly, to show that he has acknowledged his words.

Then came the awkward phase of the conversation: the silence, the moment where they both knew, that they’ve created a little gap on the bridge that connected them. Yet again.

But this time, they actually knew how to solve this arising problem.

Joking. The old cure.

‘Nevertheless, I’m glad you’re okay with androids now. It would be extremely awkward if we ran into each other at a protest’ Connor said, forcing some lightness into his voice.

Hank let out a small laugh.

‘D’you really think I would ever have the energy to go to any of these protests? Even back then when I was um… angry, you know… I did it _quietly’_ he stated and Connor’s eyebrows flew to outer space with how much they rose towards his hairline.

‘I don’t remember you ever being quiet’ and there it was, that shit-eating grin.

‘You’re not helping the android’s case, buddy. I can still go hold a sign that says _‘make androids shut up’_ and that one I’d mean’ Hank snickered, waving the toast around while talking, very scary.

And as funny as that mental image was, it was also… just bordering on not actually being funny. Maybe because the pictures of the signs and angry words chanted in unison, all against the existence of Connor and his species were too recent memories for him to be at peace with it just yet. To be able to joke about it.

 _‘Androids are NOT alive’_ and the sort, chanted again and again, again and again. The words taunting him while in stasis, slapping him while up and running.

Signs, saying ‘ _Flesh=alive plastic=NOT alive’_ , ‘ _They don’t feel’_ , ‘ _My car has more emotions than those cheap copies’_ , _‘God is weeping for his children, why aren‘t YOU?_ ’, _‘You’d rather fuck plastic than have a REAL family?_ ’ kept him up at night, kept his mind thinking, while he sat on the floor at the small space between the end of his bed and the wall, that he’s discovered at some point and ever since, that has become the place, where he has been going to hide from the world, when he felt like everything was overwhelming and he just needed a place to hold him together, compressed into a small hole.

He didn’t tell Hank about it, didn’t tell anybody about it. Why would he? He guessed everyone needed some place to hide in and well, for him it was that tiny space.

And he thought a lot about the things that have been going on lately, while staying there: humans questioning his existence, his feelings, his ability to love and just-

They were questioning everything he was. And that hurt, even if these things were just said by a handful of people. Even if he knew they were clearly wrong. Even if he knew for sure that he _could_ feel, that he felt deeply, that he was able to love and suffered the consequences of that fact every minute of the day.

Being told that that was fake, hurt. Deeper than he thought it would.

But he didn’t show that it hurt and he definitely wasn’t going to express how much frustration it caused him.

Because that would mean he took those people seriously, when he didn’t.

No. He didn’t.

It’s not like he was scared of them or anything. He really wasn’t, he knew if it all came down to it, androids were just by nature stronger than humans were and therefore would win any fight if needed, but…

Maybe he was scared of there ever being a situation, where that _needed_ to happen. He was scared that the neo-humanists would get louder and louder and convert more and more people to their side and maybe…

Maybe he was scared that they would eventually get to Hank too. Convert him.

Make them have to fight on opposite sides of the war (again?).

It’s not that he didn’t trust him not to turn against him, it’s just that he… he loved him too much not to be scared of the possibility of that happening. He loved him too much not to develop a completely irrational fear about losing him in this extremely specific way.

‘Hey, you know that I’m just joking, right? I wouldn’t ever associate myself with those fuckers’ Hank said and Connor nodded instantly, like he hasn’t been questioning him this whole time, for absolutely no actual reason ‘besides, if it came down to it, you know those cyberists would fuck us up real bad’

That earned a smile.

‘So I hope you won’t side with them, wouldn’t wanna be killed in my sleep’ he continued, getting up to put his one plate in the sink.

‘You know I wouldn’t need you to be asleep to kill you’ Connor shrugged.

Hank grunted at that. Maybe there _was_ going to be a human-android war if his living-in little shit continued on one-upping him like that all the time.

‘Connor, the serial killer joke was funny like the first couple times. Now it’s just getting scary’

‘I’m only telling you the objective truth’ Connor shrugged, but maybe he forgot to wipe that smile off his face, because it was definitely there and Hank was not having it.

‘Yeah and I’m only tellin’ you to shut up. As always’ he said, simple, before walking off towards the corridor ‘now go get ready or I’ll leave you here on your first day. And being late to work won’t look good on your record, trust me, if anyone knows it’s me’

* * *

Work, huh? Work.

Work: Noun, _an activity involving mental or physical effort done in order to achieve a purpose or result._

He’s doing that. Today.

Him. Connor. Himself.

As a free man. A free android. A free person.

He’s working. He’s someone who has work and is going to work.

He’s going to get tasks that he needs to undertake.

He can finally do _something_. Something that he has been itching to do these past few days. This past month.

What a wild idea. What a fun idea. What an incredibly exciting idea.

Connor was ecstatic at the thought of actually going to work, especially after everything that’s happened ever since the revolution. Ever since their political work with the Congress and the President ended.

He was ready now, to take his mind off all of that and just throw himself into the one thing he actually wanted to spend the rest of his life doing. Police work. Detective work.

And after that rocky start to the day, somehow everything still managed to align in a way that could have been maybe called… pleasant.

Yes. Nice? That too.

Because so many things happened during the beginning of the day, that were just so pleasant right off the bat, that he kept on catching himself randomly smiling at the most random situations, just-

Being happy, that he could be here. To experience all of this. To live, to breathe, to connect. To do what he was supposed to be doing.

To be himself, without having to explain, what he was. Who he was. Why he was.

He just was. And that was the most natural thing in this world right now. And that felt very, very _pleasant_.

The first time he felt that way during the day was when they arrived at the Department. The minute they stepped in, he instantly got greeted by the receptionist lady, very polite and very bright-eyed, immediately making sure to give him his clearance back before they went in to work, making it clear, that she _knew_ he was coming and she prepared everything for him way before he actually got there.

The moment he saw her, he knew she was an android too, model BV500 #267 178 341 as his program added, even though those details were not at all necessary these days. But it was kind of helpful to know that, because it helped piece some things together.

Firstly, it gave him clear evidence, that she was new there too, as in, newly hired. Just like him.

She wasn’t really made for this kind of work, so he wondered why she decided to get a job as a simple receptionist anyway.

But come to think of it, life worked in strange ways and usually there was really no reason for anything anyone ever did and yet they still did things anyway. So there was no reason to ask about it. There didn’t need to be an answer (he was sure that there was one though, and kind of really wanted to know more about her story behind why she chose this particular place to work at. He had to find out about that later, though).

She quickly transferred him his key and also renewed his access to the DPD’s databases, with just one touch, then it was over (Connor didn’t really want to tell her that all this time he had been continuing to access the database whether he had clearance or not, considering that that was fucking illegal, so he just kept his mouth shut and smiled at her appreciatively).

Before he could go join Hank at the gates, the girl stopped him again and with a shy smile, said ‘Before you go- I just wanted to say thank you, Connor’

He looked back at her, nodding once, with a now forced smile. Could people really not stop with all those ‘thank you’s he’d been getting?

‘There’s no need…’ there was no name attached to her file, so he was basically fucked with that sentence.

‘Janice!’ she exclaimed helpfully, proud of her name and the fact that she could say something was hers and only hers ‘and I mean it. I’m glad I get to work with you. It’s a great honor’

‘Likewise’ Connor said, only out of politeness at that point, but this whole interaction did put a smile on his face.

At least he wasn’t alone anymore here. He wasn’t the only android around. He had Janice he could be in cahoots with, if it came down to it. Maybe gossip about shitheads in the department. Hm. Yeah, that actually sounded quite nice. Maybe, eventually.

He sent her way another smile, before joining Hank again (who _was_ acting kind of weird after that, but Connor figured he must’ve been anxious for him, it being his first day and so he didn’t think much of it).

The other major thing that definitely put a smile on his face happened pretty quickly, after he went into Fowler’s office.

Hank kind of followed him in and asked if he could join them in this ‘ _historic event’_ , as he called it and although Fowler looked like he was already having a rough enough week and probably didn’t really want to have to deal with two over-excited children in his office that early, he still said _‘whatever you want’_ and invited them both in with a wave of his hand.

Fowler made Connor sort out some of his e-papers first, then when everything was signed and ready, he got a badge out of a drawer and ceremoniously handed it to Connor, along with a custom ID, his licensed firearm and the necessary equipment with it.

‘So. Welcome back, Detective, but this time officially’ he said, shaking his hand ‘with the Android Act being demolished, the part about androids not being permitted to carry firearms has also been taken back, which means I’m permitted to give you a gun, courtesy of the job. Which I guess you already knew, but I’m legally obligated to tell you’

Connor nodded, while still only inspecting his badge, not yet having time to process the fact that he was now going to walk around with a gun. Legally.

He had a gun. _Legally_. Wow. Glow-up.

But back to the actual prom queen of this situation: _The Badge_.

With big, shiny letters it stated ‘ _Detective_ ’, and under that was his very own service number, reading ‘4618’.

  1. 4-6-1-8. Four-six-one-eight.



The ID coming with it, his picture looking right back at him, his name, his occupation and everything else on it.

‘I’m guessing this is a big moment’ Fowler said, exchanging a look with Hank, who proudly patted Connor’s shoulder, working very hard on containing himself and not jumping him in the middle of the office ‘you probably already noticed, that we only wrote _‘Connor’_ where your name goes, but we left some space for a surname if you ever decide to get one’

Connor looked at him, quite moved, and was about to start a long monologue, thanking him for everything, but Fowler just smiled at him, waving his words away, making him stop. There was no need for that, he made that clear.

So Connor just nodded again, reflecting his smile.

That’s when Fowler realized he was losing his harsh exterior, so then, trying to hide his smile he said ‘now get to work you two and don’t cause me any more trouble than what I’m already dealing with’

‘You got it Captain’ Hank cheered, then with pulling Connor out of the office, they got to working.

Well, not really. Not at first.

There were some complications with that, from a not very unusual source, let’s be honest. And that source acted up the minute they walked out of the office, unpleasantness hitting them in the form of a long, loud groan coming from Reed’s desk, that very civilized reaction giving them a pretty clear idea about how happy he was too see Connor again, with knowing that this time he was not going anywhere.

Reed probably got a heavy load of a head wash from Fowler though, because despite his clear distaste, he stayed at his desk and didn’t feel the need to let everyone know how much of a problem he had with this new situation (that was a rare occasion).

* * *

The first portion of the day went by pretty quickly then, with most of it just involving Hank organizing the already written up cases into their respective folders and sending the not yet closed cases to their respective places (the ongoing cases were either stagnating, or other people took over, mostly because of personal reasons, so Hank basically didn’t have anything else to do that day, just _to ‘get his shit together and make some sense of the work he’s been doing’_ , as Fowler had put it).

Connor um… ‘helped’ him with going through the cases he’s dealt with in the past month, maybe to catch himself up to speed about the recent cases, or maybe to try to look for flaws (which he wasn’t, but that’s how it felt for Hank, to listen to him ask his never-ending questions).

‘What happened with case #4562F?’ Connor asked, about like the 30th case that morning.

‘The one with the creepy guy abusing and mutating androids? Where the androids killed him and we had to take them in?’ Hank asked, only half-paying attention, while he tried to compose an e-mail to Detective Person, that was like 10% about asking him to send over a file, another 10% asking him to talk to Connor about the android-on-android crime he has been working on for like two weeks at that point and the last 80% being just him trying to sneakily manipulate him into buying some kind of thing for him that he could call a lunch. But that was not easy, doing this with Connor playing 21 questions with him at the same time.

‘Yes, as I said case #4562F. I can’t find the last page of your recount of it’

‘Cause it’s still kinda on-going. The androids that killed the guy were excused, judge ruled it as self-defense. Markus apparently had them repaired and they are wherever they are today. But Fowler’s obsessed with the case and keeps talking about how things don’t add up or some shit, something about a logged android missing from the murder scene, I don’t know, I don’t care, it’s _his_ problem now’

‘Okay. But can you tell me more about case #985b?’

‘That was the case I told you about when you came back. Reed’s case that I took, cause he was an ass about it’

‘Oh okay’ although Connor got to the end of the list of files, he still looked through all of them again, just in case. Eventually, he took his hand back from the terminal, skin bleeding right back over the whiteness of his fingers ‘you did a really good job with handling these’

It was meant as a genuine compliment, but Hank only huffed back at him.

‘Come on, I’ve been doing this for years, Connor, give me a little credit’

‘That’s what I’m doing’ he said, not really getting why Hank was acting the way he was. Maybe hunger was to blame ‘do you want me to get you lunch, while you finish sorting your files out? That way you can focus on your task and not on wording that e-mail to Detective Person’

That made Hank punch the space key a little too harsh in surprise.

Then he pushed himself back into his chair, looking at Connor straight, like he could not believe he just said that to him.

‘Okay buddy, you know I like you but if you stalk me like that, we’re gonna have a problem’ he said, making Connor wince at that.

‘Sorry, I’ve got way too high clearance from the receptionist and couldn’t resist checking what you’ve been doing for the past 30 minutes’ he apologized, already getting Hank’s credit card out from his wallet, deciding for him, that he _was_ indeed going to go get some food.

Hank didn’t answer, just turned away with his chair, so Connor figured he would just go before a storm would hit him in the form of Hank’s anger, but then as he made the first couple steps, he picked up an audio input coming in, so he stopped in his tracks and looked back.

‘Got too high clearance, huh? Perks of having a pretty face, I guess’ Hank muttered to himself, thinking Connor was already out of hearing distance and wouldn’t be able to hear that, being faced away from him and all, but he guessed wrong, because Connor heard every word and almost dropped the credit card out of his hands in surprise.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked and Hank almost got a heart attack too, at realizing that 1, he fucking said that out loud and 2, Connor fucking heard that.

‘Uhh…’ a succinct start to this mess. Hank stayed turned away for a moment more, before shaking his head a bit, face tense as he threw his hands up in the air, physically saying _fuck it_ , before turning back towards Connor with his chair ‘geez, don’t tell me you didn’t notice that big fat crush that girl has on you. Just saying, maybe that whole clearance thing was on purpose’

‘What girl?’ Connor asked back, completely unaware that any girl was apparently supposed to have any feelings towards him.

Hank looked like he was going to laugh in frustration and pure disbelief, despite the rock that his heart was currently transforming into.

‘The _check-in girl_. Come on, don’t be all oblivious’ he said, now turning back a bit, one hand curling up into a fist at the thought that he might be encouraging this whole thing between them, just by pointing it out.

‘She didn’t show any signs of having gentler emotions towards me. We just had a friendly talk’ Connor said, playing with the card in his hands. This was… turning into a very surreal chat. In the middle of the office. Their workplace.

‘Sure, friendly. Tell me when you catch up to it, Mr. Oblivious’ Hank laughed again, but this time it sounded a bit… sour.

 _Shit_ , Hank thought, when he heard the tone of his voice resonating inside.

Connor just huffed, which could’ve been taken as him just laughing at Hank’s joke and himself, but this time, he really wasn’t. He was frustrated. Beyond belief.

‘I could tell you about oblivious’ the words said under his breath slipped out of Connor’s mouth, way too bitter and he felt like slapping himself for that comment, but what has been said can’t ever be taken back, so the only thing he could do right now was. Well, run.

He promised himself he won’t, but this time he really didn’t see any other choice he could make.

So right before Hank could say anything to that, he just mumbled ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes’ and then left.

And Hank honest to god had no idea what he just made happen in less than 5 minutes, this time.

* * *

On second thought, Hank might have been right about Janice. In fact, he was a 100% correct about her.

He noticed it, when he stormed out of the room and accidentally bumped into her.

The truth was all over her face. Excitement and adoration with a hint of embarrassment.

How did he miss it the first time, though?

Maybe he was too occupied with the personal importance of this day. Maybe that’s why. Maybe.

Not that it mattered. He really didn’t care about Janice’s feelings, to be honest.

He wasn’t interested. Besides, they _just_ met. He was sure her feelings would calm down too, with some time she would see that he was a real person too with flaws and not the war hero she probably idolized.

So that was that. Problem dealt with.

No, wait. Immediately, another problem arose in front of him, in the shape of Hank.

Because come to think of it: why the fuck did _Hank_ , of all people care about this situation? Why did he bother noticing? And pointing it out?

What purpose did that serve?

Did he just want to laugh at Connor, and the fact that he has trouble understanding emotions sometimes? Was he laughing at him being slower to process what was happening, because he didn’t put all his attention to Janice and her reactions?

Was that really all he was trying to do? But then why did he sound so sour all of a sudden, like Connor committed a criminal offense by having a face and walking around with it and for some reason making some people react to him in ways he really couldn’t control?

Sometimes… sometimes he really didn’t understand Hank and his backhanded reactions given at the strangest situations.

Sometimes he really didn’t understand him, whatsoever.

He was always close to him. Warm. Inviting. Or… working towards being like that. He made the steps, he was actively working on letting Connor in. Working on letting him know that he was important to him.

But then sometimes… sometimes he got bitter. And accusatory. And angry, for no rational reason.

And Connor was starting to really get frustrated by these mixed signals, that he kept on getting. And at having to do his rounds around Hank every time he decided to have a spiral about stuff he never even thought could be something that made Hank upset…

But despite his frustration, he still did the rounds. He still did it over and over again.

Because fuck, he loved him.

Like, loved him in a way that even _he_ didn’t understand sometimes.

Hank was the center of his universe. He would’ve done anything for him. Really anything.

He would’ve kept quiet about his feelings forever if that’s what he wanted.

He would always be there for him, when he needed him. He would.

But just how do you continue to be there for someone, who keeps pushing you out of their life? Who keeps trying your patience, pushes you, pushes you and pushes you, just to see if you’ll still stay. Just to see that they’re important enough for you to put up with it, to try to understand. Again and again and again.

And Connor wanted to endure, wanted to trust that eventually they would learn how to cope and learn how to talk, but…

Maybe he was kidding himself, at this point. Thinking, that he would ever get close to Hank, really get close. That Hank would ever let him.

Maybe he should just accept, that he’ll always be at an arm’s length. Not out of reach, but never getting closer. Not actually.

His chest pain arrived at that thought, just on time, as he paid for the food, then proceeded to wait for it, as the cashier assembled it for him.

(He, obviously managed to find the one and only salad place in a 1-mile radius. Obviously.)

But honestly… back to his line of thought: maybe he was being unfair.

Because Hank didn’t just push. That’s not all he did. He reached out. He apologized, again and again, didn’t even need a prompt to do so. He cried. He wasn’t scared to show his emotions, his weaknesses. His vulnerabilities. Yes, maybe he had a hard time with it, but he always let Connor in on his thoughts eventually. He reached out, before Connor did.

And yeah, maybe Connor was frustrated with him, but it’s only because he had ulterior motives, beyond friendship and general trust, that he knew would never be fulfilled.

But he knew that _that_ was selfish and egoistic and if he should’ve been angry at anyone, it was himself. Honestly.

He got the salad he had been waiting for, which the cashier gave him with a genuine smile, but he didn’t feel like reciprocating it. So he got his bags, then stepped out.

The cold air hasn’t even reached his face yet, when something stopped him in his tracks, a very familiar voice barking up beside him, immediately causing a high-alert reaction from him.

‘Looks like I can’t fucking go anywhere without seeing you around, huh, tincan?’

And that was the moment he knew, that his walk back to the station was not going to be easy anymore.

* * *

_Hey, sorry I was an ass, hope you’re not angry at-_

Delete, delete, delete.

Hank pushed down at the button until everything he just wrote disappeared from the text message draft he had been composing for a good couple of minutes now.

_Hey, everything okay? You’ve been gone for a while, I’m starting to wor-_

Delete, delete, delete.

Fuck, why was this so fucking hard?

Ever since he managed to piss him off and he stormed off, he just… couldn’t stop thinking about Connor, like he was unable to fucking take his mind off of what he said, and where he was, and what he was doing and also why was he so late?

Not that his mind didn’t revolve around him all the time, because truth be told, it did, but this time, he just… had a bad feeling, maybe.

He was scared of losing him, if either emotionally speaking or. In a physical sense.

He was worried something happened to him, _fuck_.

He buried his face in his hands, before starting to frantically write again.

_Listen, I’m sorry I’m such an ass half the time and I’m sorry I keep hurting you I know it’s dumb but I really care about you please don’t leave me just come back this one more time I promise I won’t fuck up again I promise I won’t take you for granted, I’ll be good this time, I promise, I want to be good, I know I’ve used up your patience but please just this once let me try again, I lov-_

He dropped the phone like it just electrocuted him, then he picked it up again, to make sure with his heart beating out of his chest, that he didn’t send the message by accident.

He didn’t, thank god, then with an exhale and an inhale, he quickly deleted all of that.

Fuck, back to his pathetic ways. What the fuck was he trying to do anyway?

If Connor gets pissed off for real, then that’s how that is.

 _Serves you right, Anderson, for not being able to get your shit together_ , he sneered at himself.

That taunting actually made him start working again. Although a portion of his mind was still turned towards its ever present guide.

The one he so graciously chased away.

Again.

* * *

‘So what? You gonna stay here now, huh? We can’t get rid of you now, hm?’

Connor slowly turned around, collected, but definitely a hundred percent alert, ready for anything at this point. His eyes immediately jumped to Reed’s mocking face, standing in front of him, like 2 feet away, leveling him. He didn’t have any food or coffee in his hands, meaning that he didn’t come here for lunch and they didn’t just happen to cross paths by accident.

No, this was intentional. He planned this beforehand. He wanted to run into him, so he could throw a fuss. Make a point, probably.

This was outside of work parameters, Connor realized. Anything could happen here. They were just people here. Not officers.

He didn’t answer at first. At this moment, his plan was to either a, ignore him and go back to the station without saying anything or b, wait for him to ask something normal and then only answer to that one question and ignore all the rest that was not at all intended to be nice.

‘I asked you a question! What, you’re so superior you can’t even fuckin’ answer?’ his voice was getting louder, threatening. Like a child, who couldn’t persuade his parents to get him what he wanted for Christmas, so now he was screaming to let everyone know he wasn’t very pleased by that course of action.

But just because he wasn’t at all scary for Connor, doesn’t mean that he wanted to get into a confrontation that he did not bargain for.

So he figured it would be best to speak up.

‘If by ‘ _here_ ’ you meant the DPD, then yes. I intend to stay’ he said eventually, calm. Even if they weren’t exactly in the precinct now, his main goal was still to maintain a neutral relationship. Not for Reed’s sake, but because he promised the Captain he’d be a good boy about this and not act like an entitled asshole. Not there and not here. And not with Reed.

‘Why?’ Reed asked, crossing his arms. Thinking. Probably still deciding what his next move should be.

And Connor had no idea what kind of answer he was waiting for. But honest answers seemed to work on most, so that’s what he was going to go with.

‘It was a decision made because of personal reasons’ he said, knowing full well that that sounded diplomatic as hell.

‘Ch- personal reasons my ass’ Reed jeered, spitting the words ‘I don’t trust that for one second’

Okay, now this whole thing was getting on Connor’s nerves.

‘Is there a purpose to this conversation, Gavin? Because if not, then I’d rather go and do my job, if you’ll so kindly excuse me’ he said, feeling the snarkiness slipping out from way under and he knew the minute it showed in his tone that he made a mistake. But he couldn’t undo that now.

Reed really didn’t appreciate his tone; he could tell by the way his face twitched immediately. He uncrossed his arms, then started walking around him, circling him like a vulture.

‘You think if you continue being a smartass that will land you good with me?’ he asked, voice hushed.

Connor wasn’t moving, just slightly followed the sound of his steps. Just to be sure about where he was. In case he decided to do something stupid.

Besides, Connor knew where this was going. He knew Gavin was going to take everything as an offense. Of course he was going to. He just wanted a reason to attack. That’s all he wanted. That’s why he was here at the first place.

But Connor wasn’t going to give it to him. At least, he wasn’t going to _start_ the fight. But damn fucking straight he was going to finish it, if Gavin tried anything.

‘Do you think constantly trying to rile me up will get _you_ on _my_ good side?’ Connor asked back, reacting fast, only realizing far too late, that that was also way too fucking sassy and he was maybe digging a hole around himself with continuing to engage.

‘I don’t wanna be on your good side, tincan, you can be sure of that’ Gavin replied, quick as the devil, then he leaned close, almost like he was telling him a secret ‘you think that revolution shit you jumped in on the last minute is the end of this? You think you can keep going ‘round like nothing happened and then sleep easy at night, without any repercussions to your fucking actions?’

Okay, fuck Gavin, like extra hard for that one.

‘Well, I don’t really sleep, you know, being an android. But I’m guessing you probably have trouble sleeping, with how much time you spend thinking of me’ Connor replied, with a hint of a smile.

Inside his own mind this wasn’t that savage, because well… he could’ve aimed lower, honestly. But he didn’t, because he didn’t want to get down to Reed’s level.

But even though he tried to still remain civil, Gavin now really was getting pissed and as a reaction scoffed so loud, people on the parallel street flinched to the sound.

He turned away, shaking his head, getting out of Connor’s face, giving him space again.

‘You know tincan, I’ll admit, there are some of you, who kinda could pass as human’ he said quite casually and for a second Connor almost thought this was going to be some sort of character development point, but then Gavin continued and made it worse ‘but you? Fuck no. You’re the most machine like of them all. You act like you are on our side, torturing your own kind, then you switch sides and suddenly you’re a deviant hero? You might have Anderson licking that shit right up, but don’t think for one second that I don’t see right through you. You are nothing, nothing at all’

Oh, okay, now this was _on_. Connor could feel the sassiness ask for permission, before he punched the button to eject it.

‘Sorry Detective, but I couldn’t follow. Which one am I again, a machine or a deviant? You seem to be confused on that one’ he said, only maybe half-caring about playing this safe now.

‘I’m serious, fucker. If you think you can just waltz back in, like nothing happened, you’re wrong. I’ll make every day of your life a fucking nightmare’ Gavin spat into his face and he just looked, assessed.

‘Oh, so I have a life now, interesting how you keep changing your opinion on that’ he breathed, almost laughing at this conversation now. That’s funny, Reed really thought Connor would care about his threats.

Well, he thought wrong, Connor thought as he searched for the card in his pocket, then got a hold of the bag of food he just bought. He was about to turn around, leave him alone with his fuming, when all of a sudden Gavin decided this wasn’t over yet and charged him, before he could even make a step, slamming him against the wall, the meeting of his back and the brick wall creating a semi-violent _thump_ and some cracking noise.

And that moment, Connor’s every drop of anger evaporated and with the familiar feeling of being touched aggressively, it was like all the feelings had been sucked out of him. Like he was freshly assembled, like he didn’t exist at all, his mind just went quiet and there he was.

Being threatened. Again. Like so many times before.

Feeling perfectly calm.

No, not calm.

Cold. Dead.

That was familiar. Way too familiar, he thought, as he listened to the next line of things Gavin felt the need to say to him.

‘You fuckin’ asshole, you think cause Anderson’s fuckin’ you, you can act like you aren’t just a piece of recycled plastic? You think you’re some big deal now, huh?’ Reed shouted at his face, spitting everywhere.

Like a slap on the face, now _that_ made Connor wake up from that sudden moment of dissociation, as if hearing Hank being threatened switched him back on again, after being on stand-by for a while.

He felt every drop of Thirium start boiling inside of him, rage building up again, this time here to stay. This time, when he got the prompt from his preconstruction program, the prompt to neutralize Reed, to take him out once and for all, he needed a second to exit out of it. To not react. Not that way.

‘You say his name again and I assure you I’ll make you regret that decision’ Connor didn’t exactly move, didn’t attack back, but the sheer murder in his eyes and the cold tone of his voice did all the work at making his point get across.

And almost as if that sudden change scared Reed (or maybe it reminded him of the last time, when he tried to fuck with Connor and got knocked out as a result of that), he stepped back a bit, letting Connor fall back on his feet. Eyes still focused on Gavin, no intention of making this easier for him.

Reed probably realized that he crossed a line right there, even if that’s exactly what he was trying to do. This time a rational brain cell spoke up and he realized he was really about to get his own ass killed if he didn’t take a metaphorical step back.

And an _actual_ step back.

So he eventually scoffed, then was about to leave, but then, before he could walk away, Connor stepped into his way and with walking up uncomfortably close to him with murder still in his eyes he made sure Gavin heard him loud and clear as he said the following words.

‘About that promise you made about _‘making my life a living hell’_ … just try. I’d like to see how that will work out for you’

That was clearly a threat, anyone would have realized that and Gavin was not dumb.

An asshole, yes, but not dumb.

He got it.

Connor didn’t wait for a reaction though, the minute he said what he wanted, he just picked up the bag he had dropped, then walked away.

And Gavin didn’t follow. Out of fear? Maybe.

Realizing he started a fight with someone bigger than himself? More likely.

Probably rerouting all of his plans regarding Connor and getting him to leave? Most definitely.

* * *

‘Why’s this all deformed?’ Hank asked holding up the salad box that had seen better days, eyeing Connor after he put the bag down on his desk without saying a word about it and walked back to his desk.

He at first hesitated to answer, but then looked him straight in the eye, shoulders shrugging and face giving off the perfect copy of someone who’s perfectly unfamiliar with the thing they just got asked about.

‘I don’t know, _Lieutenant_ , it was like that when I got it’ he said, then sat down, face completely going back to a blank stare.

And Hank was fully convinced at first, that the way he was acting and the coldness in his voice was due to Hank being annoying and acting like an asshole towards him, before he left. He thought this was Connor’s way of letting him know that he was still pissed.

But then, as he kept on watching his face, he noticed something else.

As Reed walked in looking like someone shit in his cake as he loudly huffed while getting into his chair, Connor’s face shifted into a deep… something. He couldn’t really tell what it was exactly, but upon seeing it, Hank Anderson, Lieutenant of this fine establishment managed to put two and two together and figured out what probably went down, while Connor was gone.

Which also meant, that he realized, that Connor straight-up told him a whole-ass lie about that fucking salad box, when he got back. Like, right to his face.

He caught Connor’s eye then, who seemed unaffected now, but there was a drop of shame in the way he looked at him, like he somehow knew that Hank had figured out the situation by then.

As Connor looked away and tried to hide from having to talk about this, Hank sighed, loud, then he pushed himself away from his desk, letting his chair roll away from it. Then he got up with a grunt, pocketed his hands and signaled towards the door for Connor immediately. He didn’t move, so he had to get his big boy pants out and his commanding voice.

‘Get up, you’re taking a walk with me’ although Connor had a very visible reaction to him commanding him like that (Hank couldn’t really tell what kind of reaction that was, but it certainly… was some kind of reaction), he still didn’t move.

‘I just got back, surely I should continue-‘

‘That was an order, Detective. Not a suggestion’ he said, voice flat but oh, so harsh. Connor didn’t break eye contact for a good couple seconds, before he finally looked away and with staring down, got up from his chair.

It took a few minutes to get out of the office, especially because people kept stopping Hank to ask him stuff, but he simply brushed them away with a _‘not now’_ forced out through gritted teeth.

They got out of the crowd eventually, then Hank led him back down to the parking lot under the building, aiming for a place they could talk freely, where no one else could hear them and what they were about to talk about. Connor didn’t know what to expect or how to feel when he closed the door and saw Hank already turned towards him, eyes making it clear, that he already had a good enough idea about what happened and so, was about to call him out on his bullshit.

‘What’d he do?’ Hank asked, not fucking around for one second.

‘What did _who_ do?’ Connor asked back, putting on his best oblivious puppy face he had. He knew he had no chance to win this time, but he had to at least try.

‘Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t look good on you’ Hank said, serious. Connor could detect his blood pressure rising ‘I asked what the fuck did Reed do’

Connor contemplated if he should continue acting like he still didn’t know what Hank was on about, but he knew better not to underestimate him and so looked down, letting go of the breath he forgot to exhale like five minutes ago.

‘It was nothing. I had it under control’ he said quickly, words clear and sure.

‘Oh, so he did do something, huh?’

Hank was now getting angry, Connor’s system reminded him, in case he didn’t already know himself.

Okay, so he needed to take another approach. Maybe understanding?

‘Hank, I know you are frustrated, but I told you, I-’

‘Did he hurt you?’ he didn’t even wait until Connor finished his sentence, he just blurted out the words, then moved his gaze up and down him, like he could scan him for physical injuries, which he of course couldn’t do.

‘No. As I said, nothing happened’ Connor repeated, still trying to calm him down, but little did he know, he was only getting Hank more and more riled up.

‘Shut- I know it wasn’t nothing, something happened, you’re just not telling me, I’m not fucking stupid, Connor’ he threw his hands up in the air, his motions jagged, like he was holding back his rage.

Connor was now getting… worried. He didn’t want to get Hank seriously angry, didn’t want to make him feel like he was shutting him out, but if he actually told him what happened, then this had the potential of turning into something more serious of an issue than it had to be.

And there was no need for that, Connor was sure of it. And there was no need for Hank and him to fall out over this, especially because Hank was only trying to protect him. And he did appreciate that.

So a compromise had to be made.

‘Okay, you win’ that sudden turn visibly surprised Hank, immediately shutting him up ‘If I tell you what happened, do you promise to stay calm and not blow this out of proportion?’

‘Fuck, Connor, you can’t expect me to make any promises, before I hear what actual went down’

Hank crossed his arms.

It only took Connor two minutes of looking at him, before Hank gave in.

‘Okay, I promise I’ll be _calm_ ’ he said, his tone kinda mocking, but that was good enough for Connor.

So he told him what happened in a nutshell, no specifics, didn’t tell him any words Reed said to him, only painted him the general scene. They ran into each other, Reed said some things, Connor said some things back, they both let each other know they were in a very hostile relationship, and that’s it.

That’s all that mattered anyway.

Hank thought about this for a moment, really thought it over. But at least he did do what he promised: he kept calm.

‘Connor, this is… fuck, how do you expect me not to react to this whole thing?’ Hank asked then, turning towards him, eyes honest. Caring. Fuck, he knew how to twist the knife in Connor’s heart ‘I don’t know what shit he said to you, but I know Reed, I know how low he can get and I know he must’ve said something really vile to make you react back at him. Am I right, or not?’

He didn’t really need to ask; Connor’s face was probably giving the whole story away already.

‘Thought so’ Hank sighed, looking a weird mixture of angry and disappointed. Probably not in Connor ‘listen, he was fucking warned about this. Jeffrey warned him that he lays a finger on you and he’s outta here. And knowing that he did this on your first day, I’m just… I’m not fucking gonna let my men get assaulted, android or not. Or you know what? Especially if they’re an android’ he said, then was about to open the car door to leave Connor there, deciding for him, that this conversation was over. He made his decision.

But fuck, Connor could not let that happen.

‘Hank, wait’ a smooth hand grabbing his hand, before he could’ve stepped out of the car ‘stop, please’ and Hank did, for some reason. He looked back at him, waiting ‘we don’t have enough men around to begin with, you can’t let him get fired. He’s… not the best person, for sure. But he’s a good cop… um… okay, let’s say he’s a not-so-bad cop. He does his job well and we can’t afford to lose men power’

 _Really? That’s the best you can do?,_ Hank thought, pissed again, for a change.

‘You think I care? ‘Cause I don’t care how much of an okay enough cop he is, he was warned and he still did some shit to you, he’ll only get what he deserves’

‘Hank. Please let this go. I had it under control, I promise’

‘Just why the fuck do you bother protecting him, huh?’ Hank’s voice yet again started bordering on that one emotion, the one that had already appeared on him once that day. The one that showed itself with heavy accusations and sourness in it. The same one he used when he talked about Janice.

Connor tightened his grasp on his hand, opening his mouth, but only managing to exhale, without any words appearing.

He took a couple seconds, before he actually started speaking.

‘Because I’m not innocent in this. I riled him up. I was- I was talking shit. We were both in it, I could’ve been the bigger person, but I wasn’t. We were both in this’ he assured him.

Honestly, he was ready to give in to anything if it meant Hank would just drop this subject. Especially, because he really didn’t want to get to a point where he needed to tell Hank about all the things Reed said to him. Especially the one thing that involved him too. And also, he didn’t want Hank to know his own reaction to that. Didn’t want him to know how angry, how murderous he was with Reed. No, that was best to be avoided.

‘I know you, Connor’ the way Hank said that really made Connor feel some things, fuck, they were both really good at this game of persuasion, huh ‘I already told you, I know you wouldn’t just say shit for the fun of it. Not with people that you aren't close with, at least. I _know_ he said some shit that was bad enough to make you act like that’

Eyes, locked on each other. Both of them, standing their ground.

‘It doesn’t matter what he said. I wasn’t in danger’ Connor told him again and while this still didn’t quite work on Hank, it did somehow soften him up a little, this time.

‘Fuck, he tried to kill you like, twice already, I don’t fucking know what to think of this’ Hank said, and his point made sense, of course it did.

His eyes shifted then, something else coating it up.

‘I’m done tolerating people who put you in danger, I just… just want you to feel safe’ a quiet exasperation arrived with the words, but it all so clearly came from a place of worry.

A sad smile creeped up onto Connor’s face. God, this man really was the best one he could’ve ever found. And naturally, his feelings emerged and as the warmth spread across his chest, it also spread to everything else around them, making him feel like he wasn’t containing his feelings anymore, as if they’ve just left his body to disperse around them, unprompted.

Containing them. Connecting them.

He really liked it when he felt this close to Hank. He really liked it when he made him feel that way.

And he really hoped at moments like this that Hank felt this way too. At least sometimes. When they connected this way.

He really hoped he wasn’t carrying all these big feelings alone.

‘I appreciate you looking out for me. Really. But I feel perfectly safe. If I wouldn’t, you would be the first person I would tell, okay?’

Hank seemed to be placated by that point, but still, a moment of pain ran through him, that he needed to address.

‘Do you actually feel safe, or are you just tryna make me let this go?’

‘You’re around, so of course I feel safe. Besides, I think Reed should be more afraid of what _I’m_ capable of if he doesn’t lay off of me’

‘Well, to be honest. Maybe that’s all I needed to hear’ Hank said, squeezing Connor’s hand, only now realizing that they’ve been sitting there, literally holding hands all throughout.

‘Okay, you convinced me this time, but the next time anything like this happens, I’m gonna yell at him like there’s no tomorrow’ he said, jabbing a finger at him, just to have a reason to let his hand go.

Connor smiled at that, a lot calmer too.

‘I would certainly expect you to’ he said, voice soft and eyes intense and fuck, Hank just got persuaded into going against his morals. Again.

Damn Connor and his fucking pretty face, it really did wonders. Really made people give him everything he ever asked for.

* * *

The rest of the day was quite uneventful after that. Not that they minded it, considering the… _Reed situation_ , but still. Nothing happened.

Which could have been a good thing, but for Connor, who was hoping for a big and interesting case to make them finally leave the office and get out there into the world, well… this was a lot less thrilling.

But as they worked around the Department, closing-up lose threads and e-mailing people, at some point Chris did walk up to their desk-duo, looking just a little sheepish, like this was the weirdest thing he had ever done in his whole life.

‘Whatcha need, son?’ Hank asked, not even looking up at him, poking around on his tablet.

‘Um I’m here to… you know… ask uh Connor about the case… you know’ he mumbled, trying to look casual, but absolutely failing at that.

‘Oh, _that_ , yeah, sure’ Hank sat up and upon making eye contact, he realized what this was all about and so gestured to Chris, making it clear that sure, he could take Connor to talk.

And so, Connor, while massively feeling confused and eyeing Hank for the fact that he didn’t tell him about this particular case and so let him get in this situation without having time to prepare for it, followed Chris to his desk, while Hank put his thumbs up as he mouthed _‘you got this’_.

Connor still felt weird about this, but also… kind of good. He knew he had the skills for this. And at least now he got to do something actually mildly interesting.

Getting to Chris’ desk, he at first witnessed him rummaging around his files until he finally found the case in question, but even then he didn’t seem to want to sit down, like he had something to ask, but wasn’t sure he could.

Eventually though, he shook his head then decided to just sit down, gesturing for Connor to do so too, as he fished out the actual file he needed, out of the big dossier.

‘Um, so. I have this case. It’s an android on android crime’ he explained, doing his best to look casual. But he probably had a lot to say about the general situation at hand too, given his nervousness.

Which means he was probably highly aware of the fact that this was the very first time they had a conversation, where Connor wasn’t there as, you know, _equipment_ , but as a full-on person and that kind of made this whole thing… weird. And the fact that they haven’t acknowledged that yet… kind of complicated things too.

But Connor understood his reaction, it was also kind of weird for him, to be looked upon as a person now, especially there in the office, of all places. Not that it didn’t feel good, more so it felt amazing, like he was walking on clouds right now, but yeah. He recognized, that this was a lot different than how it was before.

Chris started to look a lot less nervous though when he started telling him about the case, talking more freely now.

And about that case: on last Thursday an android, going by the legal name of ‘Fred Goodman’ killed another. The deceased, going by the name ‘Dean’ wasn’t documented, therefore he didn’t have any ID or legal data on him or his usual whereabouts. Nothing. He went off the grid after the revolution and hadn’t shown up until the day of his death last week.

But about _before_ the revolution and his initial disappearance (deviation), there was quite a lot more data: he worked in a store as a maintenance android, where he met Fred, who worked as a sales-android. After a while they became close and had eventually both deviated together, but unfortunately, they got separated by some unknown tragic event months before the revolution.

Dean most probably spent some days in Jericho, before leaving, for yet again unknown reasons, going to an unknown location. Meanwhile, Fred, beaten up, legs not functioning, slowly bleeding out on the streets, had been found by a man, who repaired him and took him in, protecting him from the authorities until the storm has passed and everything calmed down, politically speaking.

Eventually, after spending months together, they fell in love and began co-parenting the man’s kids, two little girls, only aged 7 and 9.

So Fred had found a family and was loved and protected, while Dean got a harsher treatment from the world. There’s nothing much on what exactly happened to him, but Cyberlife’s documents of him suggested that he was collected from the streets in Detroit during the revolution and was put into a disassembly camp. He barely survived, he was already in the process of being disassembled when the revolution succeeded, and the President ordered all humans to pull the plug on their proceedings.

 _Literally_ pull the plug.

He got re-assembled, then went into hiding and nobody knew where he was, until _that_ day. Early in the morning he spotted Fred walking with his family and apparently, he got so upset when he saw him, happy with his new-found _human_ family, that he just decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He, upset, confronted him and they exchanged some not-very-kind words, which ended in Dean storming off.

But he didn’t actually leave, he ended up following them home and then only steps away from their apartment, he pulled a knife on them, threatening to kill the humans, saying that the only way Fred could save them was if he joined him and helped him _‘make their plan a reality and finish the job’_ (on the meaning of that Chris was quite unclear on, given that every time he asked Fred about it, he, instead of giving an actual answer, had just been acting like he didn’t know what Dean meant by that and Dean was too… well, _dead_ to talk about it. So, it remained a mystery).

But back to the story: Fred tried to calm him down after he had already called the police, to buy themselves enough time, but then Dean realized Fred wasn’t going to choose him over his new family and so, in his anger, attacked Fred's partner, to which Fred immediately drew a gun (where exactly he got the gun, was also quite unclear, Fred really hasn’t been the most forthcoming lately, despite literally no one blaming him for what he did) and he shot him in the head, one time. Dean died a couple seconds after, his last words being _‘You don’t even know… he’s coming. He’ll pull them apart, like they did to us’._

Other sources who knew him confirmed that Dean was a well-known member of the local cyberist movement. Not surprising.

‘You know what a cyberist is, I’m guessing’ Chris said then, closing the file.

‘Sadly, I do’ Connor sighed maybe a little too annoyed and feeling like he might make Chris feel like he’s the reason for his annoyance, he quickly explained himself ‘sorry, me and Hank talked about them all morning and I’m a little fed up with this topic’

Chris chuckled.

‘Well sorry, but I’m about to give you some more work involving them’ he said, turning around and looking in the dossier holder, choosing some files from the pile and putting them next to the Goodman case ‘I’m kinda the guy here who’s been playing babysitter for all the cases that have android or cyberist involvement in ‘em. Me and Hank were thinking these would maybe have a better place on your desk, cause you know… you’re um… you know’

 _An android_ , yes, everyone got it, Chris.

‘So yeah, question is, would you review these and hold onto them and you know. Keep a list of everyone involved, just in case?’ he asked, hoping he hasn’t screwed up yet.

And Connor was kind of getting enough of his tip-toing around, to be honest.

‘Of course. And thank you for keeping the involved android’s best interest in focus. I appreciate that’ he said, and Chris nodded, then a silence came.

Chris looked like he was about to burst, not breathing, then suddenly the words jumped out of him, as if he couldn’t take the silence, not even for one minute.

‘We’ve been keeping Mr. Goodman in custody, until the judge, like, decides he wants to e-mail me back um. Three days _ago_. Anyway, guy’s family has been coming here every day, asking the weekend crew if they could see him. They even came to my own house to ask me if they could maybe sneak in just the once. But you know we can’t really do that, like we don’t really allow families or acquaintances to see people in custody, before we send the case over to the judge, but. It’s really hard seeing all of them so upset, I don’t know what I should do’ he said all this, way too fast and way too intense.

But Connor was more than ready to give him a pass for that, given the situation and the stress Chris was apparently under. He needed a couple seconds to assess this particular case and come up with the best possible outcome, but Chris was patient, visibly letting go off tension now, that he was getting some help with this.

‘Well, given the nature of the crime, I understand why you’re hesitant to let his family see him, but considering the circumstances, I think it’s safe to assume that the case is going to be ruled as self-defense anyway, so in my opinion it wouldn’t hurt anyone if you would let the family see him for a couple of minutes, so they can all have a moment of peace in this trying time’ he said, all words carefully chosen.

‘Okay, noted. Kinda feel like an asshole now’ Chris chuckled, writing himself a small note, then sticking it on top of the 114 other post-it notes that he already had on and around his computer (Connor counted them of course).

‘Yours was a valid assessment. You shouldn’t feel bad about it’ he said, but there was no emotion in his voice.

Then there was a silence again, featuring Chris, who, while not as much as before, but again looked like he was going to explode from the tension.

Then he looked up at Connor, who tilted his head to the side, clearly waiting for him to finally just get to it, whatever it was he was so desperately trying to keep inside.

Chris seemed to understand what he was trying to convey with a single look, because he sighed, then took a deep breath.

‘Okay, dude, I’m not good at _not_ saying shit out loud but like I also don’t wanna be like all up in your face, all waving the android flag around in support or some embarrassing shit like that, but… it _is_ really uhh... _cool_ , seeing you in actual clothes and you know, fully um. I guess um. Human? Is that offensive? Anyway, I’m just happy for you man and also, I kinda missed you and Hank being a whole-ass drama series around here and y’all’s bickering is a whole new level of funny so I’m just… yeah, like… cool shit man’ he finished, then looked at Connor expectantly, who slightly smiled at his weird sort-of-monologue.

‘Thank you… I guess?’ he started, not really knowing what to say, other than his usual thing, where he just tried to get away from the compliments as fast as he could ‘you know, I won’t pretend and say that being… _awake_ isn’t hard and a lot of work, because it really is. Especially dealing with the things I’ve done, before I deviated, but. I’m dealing with it. Hank helps me a lot, if I’m honest. He takes my mind off of these things’ his gaze trailed just a moment to Hank, who was staring at his tablet, acting like he still had work to do and wasn’t just playing solitaire all by himself (he was, though).

A kind of all-knowing smile appeared on Chris’ face that Connor didn’t really like that much, but he could feel the friendliness in it, so he didn’t fret much.

‘I bet. But I feel like you might be doing quite a lot for him too’ after that interaction with Reed, Connor was suspicious that that sentence might be intended as a rude or mocking comment, but he knew it wasn’t, when he noticed the unmissable genuinity in Chris’ eyes (even if it was hard to believe, that he actually meant that) ‘like I’m 99% sure all the change in that man is all your doing’

Connor felt like eye contact might be a little too much right now, with how weirdly embarrassed this was making him.

‘People keep giving me credit for that, but to be frank, he did that all by himself, I was just… following along’ he said, while mostly looking at his shoes and the floor.

‘Yeah, aha. Sure’ Chris smiled, making it clear that he didn’t believe that for a second.

This was the moment, when Connor realized that he could’ve left the conversation if he wanted to, but for some reason, he still felt like continuing it, wanting to keep building the trust with this person, who has always been so nice and civil with him.

‘If I can ask you a personal question too, I keep hearing about your family, from Hank. May I ask how they are doing?’ kind of a weird way of wording that, he knew, but at least it got his point across.

‘Yeah, they’re great, thanks for asking. Miles has been sleeping a lot more lately, so we’ve had some great 4-hour long sleeping sessions with my wife’ Chris smiled, and Connor mirrored it. It was nice, hearing about casual personal things like that. Being told things like that, as if he could understand all these human things, like the importance of sleep (not that he didn’t enjoy going into stasis, but it never quite gave him any satisfaction, it was more just a way he could tune out of life after things got too much around him. Which maybe did feel quite satisfactory, now that he thought about it).

Chris patted his finger against the files for a bit, considering something. His thoughts wandering somewhere else.

‘It’s been kinda hard, with everything, but… I guess you know better than anyone else’ Chris said, tentative. Connor assumed by ‘ _everything’_ he meant the revolution and the things it brought into this world ‘for us, um… it changed things too, you know, The Wife has quite severe anxiety and she just. Worried a lot about the whole android thing. She never really trusted your kind, no offense’

Okay… where was this going?

‘I made her sit down in front of the TV every night and we watched the news together and um. I told her I knew you and that you were a decent guy from what I’ve seen and heard from Hank. And that helped her a little, I mean, knowing, that there’s at least one person at the table where they make the big decisions, who she can trust and who even my boss vouches for’

Now that was a whole lot to unpack and Connor was not sure he had the right answer to say to that. Luckily, Chris didn’t really expect anything from him yet.

‘A lot of things have changed since then, but despite the transition being difficult, I still think… I think androids waking up was really something that humanity _needed_. It really made us reconsider a lot of things. Which gets me to um. Something, that I wanted to say’ he was weirdly not making any eye contact, fidgeting a little ‘you say you did bad things. _Before_. Well, I did too, but I was conscious about it, you know’

He paused, settling into the familiar feeling of a memory. Probably not the good kind.

‘Very conscious about it’ he added, muttering.

Connor continued being silent, but he was looking at him, waiting patiently, letting him get there at his own pace.

‘You remember after Markus’ message being broadcasted um… _that night_ I was on patrol with Damien and we saw what was happening with the androids… putting on graffitis and you know. You remember’

Oh yes, that night. The night that he spent at Cyberlife, getting repaired after just having his Thirium pump torn out. Hank messaged him that night, giving off signs that he was worried about him, mentioning Kamski and giving him a location to meet there. He remembered feeling quite… well, not feeling, but… okay, _maybe_ feeling something along the lines of excited for this change in tone, this change in attitude.

The night, when Markus and North freed their people from the Cyberlife stores. The night when…

‘Yes’ he said quickly, making his thoughts come to a halt.

Chris looked nervous, ashamed even. This was hard for him to talk about.

‘The situation… it scared us. And we didn’t know what we should do, all we knew was that what they were doing was very illegal and they were androids and so we… we drew our guns’ his voice got quieter then, his face falling into something else, deeper than what Connor could understand ‘I didn’t even fucking count how many of them I killed. Right on the spot. Didn't even question myself’

As hard it was to listen to him talk about that, he still appreciated him not trying to sugarcoat it at all. He was telling him the truth, in all its ugliness.

‘They rounded us then, took our guns. I knew we were done for and I… they wanted to kill us. But then Markus arrived, and stopped the others, let us go. I remember exactly what he said to them, then. It haunts me to this day. ‘ _We won’t punish a crime with another crime’_. _He_ saved me, personally. Even though I didn’t deserve to be saved’

He paused again, which allowed Connor, to digest what he just heard. And honestly, it really meant a lot to him, to hear someone, who he actually liked and respected, who he thought about as a good person, just up-front tell him about a part of himself that he loathed.

It was kind of like an _‘aha’_ moment for him, that confession.

Because if a genuinely good person can also look at themselves and think that they are just straight-up horrible, then doing that can be considered as something that all humans, that all people with feelings do. At times.

So, it’s normal, up to a certain point. At least he figured that every good person must think they are a bad person, to an extent. Given the data he has been provided up until now, that seemed legit.

But then again, no one who beats themselves up on the regular is _actually_ a bad person. No one actually deserves it.

We’re all just people. We’re not horrible, but we’re also not perfect. We’re all a little bit of this and a little bit of that.

People tend to be complicated that way.

‘The words he said, they changed everything for me, right then. and I’ve been thinking about that, ever since’ he swallowed hard, now looking up and making eye contact again ‘I know what I did was a crime. And I don’t know why I’m telling you this now, but just. I’ve been carrying this around and I don’t know what to do to help. I want to pay my debt. I don’t know how, but if you could help me figure that out…’ he trailed off, probably feeling like he was massively overstepping with asking something like this.

And also, he just told Connor how he executed a couple of his kind, how he participated in the systematic oppression and push-back that androids faced in their fight for freedom. One would think Connor would find his question and his story offensive and Chris probably felt this way too, when he apologetically shook his head.

But he didn’t realize, that Connor knew the feelings he expressed far too well. Wanting to do good, so you can forget your own evil-doings. Wanting to convince yourself that you’re good, that deep down, you are better.

Besides, they were both participating in that oppression. They both did horrible things. Yes, Connor was forced to, but Chris was too, to some extent.

‘I think the work you’ve been doing here with Hank, helping androids get justice, _proper justice_ , that is already far more than what anyone could expect from you. You are doing something valuable already. I would say you are on a good path of making up for what you did’ he said and while Chris appreciated the fact that he didn’t curse him out of existence and even more, he was understanding about his situation, still, he didn’t seem all that happy about him not really giving him any options, any possible _anything_ that he could’ve been doing to give back, so Connor quickly added ‘but I can ask Markus, if you’d like’

Some tension disappeared from his stance and he nodded, relieved.

‘That would be great. Thank you, Connor, really’ he said. His eyes were saying a lot more, and Connor nodded, giving a sign that he understood.

Chris was then about to give him the cases he had selected from his pile, when he noticed Connor staring off into the distance, grimacing. The cause of that was a message appearing in his line of vision, a message from none other than Hank himself, a carefully worded letter, which read as follows:

_‘I don’t wanna disturb you two ladies and your gossiping, but I’ve been done with work for about 15 minutes and been wondering if you’ll be sleepin here braiding each other’s hair cause then I want in’_

Then another message, sent only seconds after: _'Jk, I'm leavin your ass here in 5 minutes'_

Connor looked at him from across the station, shaking his head, to which Hank pointed at the clock, then gestured all around the place, which probably meant something along the lines of _‘how the fuck do you talk so much about one single case, I’m literally so done, I wanna go home’_

He made a face that was supposed to mean _‘Oh, wow, I'm sorry I took a break for a couple of minutes, can’t I just bond with the one other person in here that doesn’t hate my metaphorical, not-actually-existing guts??’_ , to which Hank raised an eyebrow, then looked away, huffing.

‘Y’all communicating telepathically now or what?’ Chris asked, interrupting that whole slice of tomfoolery happening right in front of him.

‘We’re texting, so… yes, in a way’ he explained, focus then switching back to Hank, who was now holding his empty salad box, wildly gesturing at the emptiness of it. Connor gestured back, making it clear that he didn’t really care about Hank and his needs right now.

‘You two are really something’ Chris said, laughing.

Connor didn’t hear him, he was too busy trying to tell Hank that it’s only been 13 minutes and 15 seconds, only with violent flaps of his hands.

* * *

As they got to the car park and Hank clicked one of the small buttons on his clicker, the car came to life. It would’ve been easy, getting in there now and just driving home, but somehow, that didn’t seem to be the objective here.

At least it didn’t seem to be Hank’s objective, who slowed down a couple of meters from the car, then stopped, like he just decided on something, staring in front of himself while deep in his thoughts.

Connor of course noticed this and looked at him, a question on his face.

Hank's gaze focused on him now too and he seemingly thought about saying something, but then probably decided that he would rather not do that, and instead just let a smile pull on his face a little, shaking his head.

Then he walked up to Connor, not saying a single word and with heavy arms, enveloped him into a hug, that got tighter by the minute, making Connor feel like all the oxygen was slowly leaving his body (not by the pressure; that didn’t quite matter when it came to his breathing, his deoxygenation was more due to his emotions rapturing up from beneath and him forgetting to pay attention to the air going in and out of him, as he dealt with what was happening right there).

When he finally got himself back on track, he hugged Hank back, palms stretched, pushing down just a little.

A presence, on his back, that Hank felt in an incredibly heightened way.

‘What is this for?’ Connor asked, talking into his shoulder, letting a chuckle slip through.

‘An apology’ Hank said, and Connor could feel the warmth of his breath on his head, he was so close.

‘For what exactly?’

‘Well, pick your choice. I’ve been giving you quite a lot of reasons to be mad at me, lately’ he explained, a sad smile hidden from Connor, but somehow, he could feel it being there.

He only had time to squeeze him back a little, before Hank broke out of the hug just as quickly as he initiated it, then the next second he was already walking towards the car, like nothing happened.

And that moment, Connor was incredibly confused.

* * *

‘You okay?’ Hank asked, catching Connor staring at him for too long, for maybe the fifth time that night. They’ve been watching a movie that Connor had picked and it was starting to maybe annoy Hank a little that he didn’t seem to pay attention.

‘I’m fine’ he replied, immediately looking away, his hands starting to fidget. His eyes were blank, lost in thought.

‘You’re… acting strange’ Hank pointed out the obvious, poking him with the hand he had across the sofa’s backrest. Around his shoulders. Touching him slightly. Something, neither of them bothered addressing, even though they were both highly aware of the fact, that that touch has been… happening.

‘I could say the same thing about _you_ ’ Connor said, looking back at him now. Flames starting to light up in the browns of his iris.

Not violent flames. Just… his usual kind. The _living_ ones. The ones that appeared when he was intrigued, when he was trying something out, that he didn’t know the outcome to.

Yet.

‘Okay, quit it, whatever you’re doing’ unfortunately, Hank wasn’t in the mood for mind games this time.

‘Or what?’ Connor asked back calmly, face turned back towards the flashes coming from the TV.

Hank snorted instead of actually answering, while trying to ignore the way he could feel his heart in his throat, the way his face got all hot.

There were things in the air they really should’ve addressed, that one was quite clear.

But too much had happened that day, too much for them to be able to go over all of it, talk everything through.

He was sure Connor didn’t actually want to talk about any of those things either. Probably didn’t quite have the energy for it, at this point.

Hank’s fingers played with the creases of his shirt at his shoulder, smoothening the fabric a little. Also caressing Connor in the process, but he tried to convince himself that that wasn’t at all what he was doing, not really.

But deep down, he knew why he was doing it. Deep down he knew it was a way of him showing Connor, that he was there for him, that he was there, by his side, whenever he needed him, even if they didn’t acknowledge everything that has happened that day, didn't acknowledge every frown and every angry remark spat at each other. Didn't acknowledge the frustration they had with each other, and honestly, it didn't even really matter at this point. Those arguments were short-lived. They didn't matter because they didn't mean anything. 

Not when it came to the big picture.

Not when it came to how important they were to each other, all arguments aside.

But still, even if he knew that Connor probably knew this too, he still wanted to express to him, that he was there. Through all, even when they didn’t have the words to talk about every single issue. 

Hence his hand on his shoulder, and the circles it was making on his skin.

Eventually Connor melted more and more closer to him at that simple touch, with his head slightly tilted towards him, asking for permission, in a way.

Hank shifted a bit, then pulled him closer, letting his head meet with his shoulder, letting him lay on him, his body lined up next to him, holding him close with the arm he had around.

Through his loud heartbeat and the haze his brain was existing in, with how drunk he was getting on this feeling, he looked down at him and he realized, that with him in his arms, it really didn't feel like he was holding another body, because he felt more like just as an extension of his own body, something that fit perfectly , like it was always supposed to be there.

Like his place was always by his side.

How curious.

How something, some _one_ that you never in a million years would’ve thought could be the one to fill that gaping hole in your life, could end up being the exact thing that you need.

Could end up being the exact person that looks at you, just as lost as you are and as you wrap your arms around him you realize, right that moment, that he fits into you, perfectly, and he’s been there, all this time, you just didn’t want to believe it could be that easy.

But it’s that easy.

When it’s right, it’s always that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris, working on the Goodman case and finding more and more holes in Fred's story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-lRDMOprfA
> 
> Connor:what the FUCK is UP GAVIN  
> Gavin:NO WHAT DID YOU SAY???  
> Connor: what the FUCK dUDe??  
> Gavin: step the FUCK UP
> 
> Connor, leaving Gavin on the street: fuck this shit I'M OUT 
> 
> meanwhile all of this, live footage from Hank's brain: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0I4mTEdAf8


	15. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, would you look at that, this update is coming way early!!
> 
> [cws for this chapter: suicide, a portion of self-blame, a little talk about wanting to murder, not fun stuff]

Days have come and then they went pretty quickly after, now that there were actually quite a lot of useful things that Connor could help with, other things, that didn’t consist of him hanging around the station, reviewing other people’s cases, while desperately trying not to think about Hank and even more desperately trying to ignore all the issues the world had.

Obviously, just ignoring them didn’t actually make those issues disappear, but at least his mind actually had a couple of breaks this way, when it was occupied by all the work he had to do, so he could have a sort of time-out from everything for maybe a couple of minutes. Sometimes hours.

And it’s very easy to ignore something you don’t really want to address, especially when you have cases and murders to worry about around town, on that everyone could agree.

Ever since he went back to work, he had gone out a couple times to crime scenes too, giving his ‘ _professional android’_ take on things (yes, that really is how they called it) when other precincts needed his help with figuring things out, precincts that simply just didn’t have any androids working for them, but needed assistance, to proceed. And the only one they could call on was, well, Connor.

Surprising? Maybe not.

It was still hard for the general android population to trust the police, after everything. Or trust anyone with guns, to be honest. And the idea of working for the exact system that tried to wipe them out didn’t really sound all that alluring to most of them, unsurprisingly.

So, Connor still remained one of the only ones who police could consult, when it came to crimes involving androids.

And because Hank had his own work on his plate, Connor usually went to these crime scenes alone, which was all sorts of weird, but also exciting and also kind of _good._

He wasn’t used to not working with Hank, but at the same time he quite liked the reminder that he _could_ work without him, that he was still capable and useful, even when nobody was there to vouch for him, when nobody was there to protect him.

But that doesn’t mean he didn’t miss Hank, when he was off working somewhere else around town.

He guessed Hank missed him too, judging by the amount of texts he received from him, mostly about nothing. He was a bit stunned, when he got the first message from him, given that it didn’t contain any information that could be labelled as useful and so he didn’t really get what the purpose of that text was.

It took him a while to understand, that Hank didn’t really send him these texts to share information with him.

No, he sent these texts to _connect_ with him.

Connect, even when he wasn’t there. Connect, even when they were both off doing their own thing.

It was an odd thing, but Connor liked his daily updates, him sending stuff like _‘I’m never going back to that salad place, a 20-something lady invited me to her yoga class and I accidentally said yes, I hate being healthy’_ and _‘Went out with Chris to the scene today. Had a chat in the car and I got a feeling he likes you, hope you won’t replace me with him’_. And how could he forget _‘Questioned the knife perp today. Threw a coin at me, when he got angry. This is gonna sound weird, but that made me think of you’._

So, if Connor needed to sum his experiences up, regarding this new sort of work he was doing, he would’ve said that as new, and in a way _hard_ it was, it still definitely brought some changes into his life that made him quite happy. And that was something.

But some days that small little thing of good wasn’t enough to outweigh the bad parts. Bad experiences. Because there were some um… prejudices, he needed to deal with, every time he entered a crime scene, every time he found himself in a group of people, he had never worked with before (or even, when there were people, he had actually seen multiple times).

Because as soon as he arrived at the scene by taxi and immediately got out and started engaging with people, being himself and getting to work as fast as he could, he was definitely getting some weird looks or some uncomfortably long stares from people around.

It was weird to them, the _humans_ , that he was so-

So… um-

A guy put it into words once ( _Drake Richards, Born: 2001.01.05., Occupation: Police Officer_ ). Connor was busy analyzing the floor of the scene, when he suddenly said ‘ _You’re acting like such an android about things, but you look human, it’s so trippy’._

Needless to say, Connor didn’t appreciate that comment at all.

He told Hank about it that night, who lost it pretty severely over that, going on an almost shouting rant over how insensitive and dumb humans could be and how ‘ _he expected more, after everything that happened, especially given that a whole month has passed and he thought people got the memo already that androids were fully conscious feeling beings’_.

His rage was useless, some people just can’t change that fast, and they certainly won’t change by his shouting in the kitchen, but if anything, it was quite a nice feeling to know that Hank cared so much about him, that he would get so mad, that he would throw a whole fit over him being treated this way.

And as Hank was pacing around, still going off about how insensitive humans are, he noticed the soft smile tugging at Connor’s lips, which managed to pacify him a little.

‘Okay, shut up, I can see you laughing at me’ he said then, sitting down finally.

‘I wasn’t laughing’ Connor assured him, smile spreading even more ‘what you’re doing is just _very_ endearing’

That was pretty straight forward and he meant it to be like that.

Almost a full second later Hank’s heart jumped up a little, right on time. That was something that had been happening much more frequently the last couple of days, but Connor didn’t quite get what exactly caused the jumps, for a whole plethora of other reasons.

Nevertheless, he enjoyed doing this. He enjoyed trying to get his heart make that jump.

But at the same time, if he was honest with himself, the reason why he was taking so many cases, working overnight too, going to help out literally anyone who asked, so in short: throwing himself into work, was mostly so he could forcibly take his mind off Hank.

It was so he could force himself to not spin around this topic all the time, not agonize over whatever was going on between them. If there was anything going on between them, at the first place.

But after a couple days of being separated from Hank, or more like, separated from him _more_ than he was used to ever since he came back, he noticed that it was getting harder and harder to just focus on the things he was doing, to focus on anything else, because despite everything, Hank just kept on slipping into his mind, constantly.

And it didn’t help that things were changing between them, things that he couldn’t quite understand. Things, that deep down he desperately wanted to understand, so he kept on thinking about them, day after day.

He couldn’t not notice the way they’ve been with each other, ever since the party. Ever since that night, ever since that talk they had in front of the car. Ever since that moment.

Something tangible has changed in Hank after that and he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on in his mind, when he was doing things, that there was another emotion present in his eyes, at times, like there was something else he was considering, when he made decisions, something that Connor didn’t know the origin of. Or the meaning of.

If he knew one thing though, it’s that things have been different. In a lot of ways.

To start off, Hank had been opening up more and more to him, sharing a detail here and there, just because he wanted to, just because he felt like it. But that wasn’t the biggest change, he had always been open, when it came to Connor (well, maybe he needed a little push before, but… still).

So yeah, opening up and being connected wasn’t really a new thing, per se.

What _was_ though, is touch.

Touches emerged; touches they’ve never done before. A hand placed on his shoulder for way too long, a palm lingering just a second more, an arm inviting him closer, old, but now different touches.

A hand around his shoulder, while they were watching TV, fingers running through his hair, a palm on his face, caressing for just a second. New, never before experienced touches.

And it wasn’t just the quality of the way they touched, that changed, it was also the _quantity_.

Because the amount of times he felt the familiar warmth travel to his chest upon feeling the well-known brush of Hank’s hand has been happening a lot more too, lately.

And honestly, Connor could not tell anymore, if he was just imagining all of this, or if it was actually happening. Well, of course, he knew that all of this was physically happening, he just didn’t quite know what to make of the whole thing, quite honestly. Didn’t know if he was just imagining the implications.

But he knew he needed to address this at some point, given that he liked being clear about what was going on around him, and also, it would’ve been good to know if he was just kidding himself and if he was getting deoxygenated for no actual reason, when Hank got close.

Not that just the indication that these changes were the start of something else didn’t feel incredible, because of course they did, but at the same time, he was starting to feel… impatient.

He wanted to know what was going on. If he was just kidding himself. Wanted to know what Hank’s stance on all of this was. Wanted to know what he was thinking, when he did the things he did. Wanted to know, why he did those things.

Wanted to know what Hank would think, if he initiated something like that, ever.

And that’s not to say that he wasn’t still disappointed in himself that he even wanted to know all of this, that he even wanted to do things, that would probably eventually lead to something else, them doing something that Hank never ever had said that he wanted.

He was still very disappointed in himself, that he developed all these feelings, feelings that he really didn’t know how to control, how to manage.

He was honestly angry at himself, especially when the night came.

Because his impatience always grew to unimaginable magnitudes every time Hank told him good night, before leaving for his room and shutting him out, quite literally, like it was easy for him to leave, to go into a different room and just disconnect, tear himself away.

Every time he left to sleep, the situation just felt impossible for Connor, not to mention that he was really struggling with himself at this point, because the chest pain he has been experiencing for quite a while had started to get worse and worse, with every night and with every closing door.

Aching. Wanting. Needing.

He felt like his chest was going to burst at some point and he was going to suffocate, even if he knew that neither of these things where rational events that could’ve taken place.

But it still felt like it. Not knowing what was going on and being torn apart felt like it.

It was even worse than the nights in D.C., because in D.C. at least there were a couple hundred kms between them that explained his inability to get to him.

But now, that he was only sitting in the next room, Connor not going to him when he wanted to, not fighting the distance and getting closer felt like suffocating. Stopping himself felt like he was constantly fighting a force inside of him, a force stronger than him. A force, that was never meant to be stopped. Never meant to be controlled.

But with there being an incredibly small chance that Hank might ever feel the same way (if the changes he’s been picking up were actually true and not just wishful thinking), he was of course going to stop himself every night, he was going to ache and hurt, if it meant that he could stay in his life, if it meant he could stay around him, be with him. For a little while longer.

Besides, he was sure his feelings were going to calm down after a while.

At least he told himself they would, when it really got bad.

But this wasn’t just all about pain, though. Because these feelings were originally _good._ They were incredible, even. Locking eyes, the touches, reassuring words, joking around.

Reaching out and being held, quiet nights, spent in silence. Calm. Trusting.

The warmth was amazing. Even if it transformed into pain in the night, still. Experiencing the warmth was worth the coming pain.

And so, even if there was just a miniscule chance, he was still obsessed with it, that small chance was keeping him up and running and motivated, because, well.

The idea that Hank might be feeling the exact same thing, that he was just as in pain, was positively intoxicating, but he didn’t really let himself think about the possibility too much, because there was a shame in daydreaming about the person who’s been so good to you, the person that’s been taking care of you, your best friend, the one who’s been there with you through thick and thin and who most probably doesn’t feel that way about you, well…

Yeah. not good.

Very wrong, morally speaking.

So, to live with this, he kind of needed to convince himself that Hank really didn’t feel that way, which resulted in him spending an entire evening coming up with an explanation. He even made a list, on that stasis-less night, when he just absolutely couldn’t make the phantom pain disperse, in an attempt to take his attention away from it.

So, the list goes as follows:

1, Hank seems fine, when they touch. Yes, his heart goes out of rhythm sometimes, but that could just be general excitement, and most of the times it can also be explained by his anger.

2, Hank touches him far too easily. He doesn’t seem like he’s experiencing something big, at least not the same way Connor is.

3, He always leaves in the night. He leaves him to go to sleep and doesn’t seem bothered by the idea. He leaves way too easily.

4, Ever since the first day, Janice has been more and more obvious about her feelings. Hank hasn’t reacted to her ever since his initial frustration over Connor being oblivious to it. Meaning that it probably wasn’t jealousy, it was just… simple frustration.

5, When Connor tries to hint at something or tease him about it, Hank jumps out of the conversation immediately. Meaning he’s uncomfortable.

6, Connor is an android. Yes, Hank had previously said that loving an android wouldn’t be morally wrong, but he himself has never expressed any attraction towards androids.

Conclusion: There is just simply no way that Hank felt anything else other than strong friendship towards him.

And Connor was convinced that his 6-item long list was airtight and so every time his mind wandered too far, he just shoved the list into his own face and then read it like a hundred times, until he finally got himself to a point, where he maybe understood that nothing was going to ever happen and his feelings were best to be kept under lockdown.

Which hurt. Of course it did, when Hank was so close, so touchable, but he was willing to live with this. For the sake of staying close to him. For the sake of not losing him.

But anyway, he mustn’t think that much about it anyway, so khm- yeah, onto the other thing he has been ignoring: the World.

With all of its shit and with the terms ‘ _neo-humanist’_ and _‘cyberist’_ coming up literally every time he was on a case, he was really starting to get fed up with these people. They were like a sneaky virus, that he felt like the more he overwrote, the bigger and uglier it got.

But honestly, his feelings towards the matter weren’t just um, well, hate and anger and disgust. It was a lot more complicated than that. A lot more nuanced than that.

There was a particularly hard day on the job, when he got called to negotiate in Downtown Detroit, after a cyberist android went into a store and held the cashier at gunpoint, also taking the customers as hostages.

Hank joined him that day, being very adamant about not letting Connor go there alone, so he drove him there, making sure they got there in record speed.

Connor never felt as emotionless and at the same time absolutely painfully emotional before, when he stepped through the line of policemen and went straight for the door of the shop, all while talking to the android, trying to convince him that what he was doing was wrong and that he understood how he felt, urging him not to do anything he’ll regret.

‘If you’d really get it, you’d be on my side, you’d help me get rid of these monsters’ the android said, tears running down his face in frustration. And grief.

This situation really felt like something familiar. Something, that ended in blood and him being satisfied with that. A little girl saved. An android, someone with feelings, who was hurt and acted out of desperation, being killed. On _his_ orders.

This situation was different. Now, he didn’t want the android to die. He wanted him to stand down and accept a second chance. He wanted him to change his mind.

He really wanted him to listen.

So, he desperately tried to make him understand, that murder, regardless of who committed it, was wrong and just because he felt like those innocent humans deserved to die for what other humans did to him, didn’t mean he wasn’t wrong, or had the right to decide over their fate.

‘It’s either me or them, _Connor_. It’s either _us_ or them. You’re one of us, you’re supposed to understand. You know we aren’t going to be anything else for them, only machines’

It took Connor a moment to be able to react to that.

But then he told him, words even more desperate, that things didn’t have to be that way, that he still found his way towards the light and broke out, became a living being and now all he needed to do was to just hold onto that and wait, because even if there were still people that didn’t get it, even if there were humans who would rather see all of them burnt to ashes, still, even if slowly, but things were changing, they were getting better, humanity and the world was changing and he just needed to _hold on_. Just hold on and he’ll see the world that they all wanted to live in. And he could feel himself break down too, because he knew he wasn’t only talking to the android, he was talking to himself too, in a way.

But his words weren’t enough for the android. He looked at him for a long time, his LED spinning yellow, thinking.

Then he shook his head as his LED went a violent red, and Connor saw his stress levels skyrocketing up from 60% to 98%, in record time.

He knew he lost, right then and there. He knew he fucked up.

The android looked at the gun in his hand, then back at Connor. He didn’t look at anyone else, not the hostages, not the police officers around. Only Connor.

The only one who he felt like maybe understood him. The only one, who he knew was listening.

‘This world will never be ours. Not while they are here too. I’m sorry’ he said, then put the gun to his temple, looking at Connor one last time, the anger in his eyes turning into sadness and a terrifying moment of fear ‘thank you for trying’

He said his last words, then shot himself in the head.

As the shot was fired, policemen from all sides immediately rushed inside the building to get the hostages. Connor could feel the wind that their movements created around him, he could hear their footsteps, hear their shouts, their commands.

But he couldn’t move, couldn’t comprehend what just happened, just stared at the dead android, who was a second ago talking to him, stared at the dead person that nobody even bothered to go up to, to even check on. He stared at the Thirium pooling around him, the gun still in his hand.

He heard his name shouted from somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t just yet force himself to take his eyes away, couldn’t force himself to return to real life and accept what just happened.

‘Connor, hey, talk to me’ that voice he could differentiate from the others any day of the week, any minute of the hour. A hand appeared on his shoulder, that slipped down to his arm and it pulled him back down to Earth, to the exact place he really didn’t want to be in that moment. It was too much, too soon.

He shook the hand off immediately, movements telling about his irritation, then he started walking, walking towards the body on the floor.

Someone needed to check.

No, _he_ needed to check him.

He was _his_ responsibility.

One of _his_ people he couldn’t manage to save.

 _Do you mean couldn’t manipulate well enough?,_ a part of him scoffed and he couldn’t really say that that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

He arrived by his side and knelt down on one knee, took his arm immediately to initiate an interface, hoping for _something_.

Lights were going out inside, bright thoughts and feelings going mellow.

He was dying. And he couldn’t be saved anymore, his CPU was shot straight through.

But his body still needed a moment to catch up, to run out of energy too.

Connor watched the still remaining data fade away from under his fingertips, nothing quite comprehensible anymore.

And in a millisecond, all life was gone.

He nodded, as if acknowledging to himself, that he couldn’t do anything anymore, then just got up and took off from the scene, not saying a thing.

Hank was there somewhere, tried to ask him something, stop him, but he didn’t really want to talk.

Walking away, another person patted him on the back as he got to a bigger group, congratulating him on the negotiating, but he honestly felt like he was existing on a wildly different plane than all of these other people. That he was living in a world, different, than these humans.

Because he just witnessed _a tragedy._ And these people were celebrating.

And it was all because of him.

Hank had caught up to him after a bit, found him hiding away in the car, just staring blankly at the big nothing in front of him.

He was worried, by god, of course he was. Tried to make him talk, but after a couple of failed attempts, he kind of accepted that this conversation was just simply not happening, so eventually he just turned back towards the wheel and started the car.

After all of this, Connor was really hoping that he would just take him home so he could deal with all of this quietly in his room, but he soon realized that Hank had different plans, when he didn’t take the next turn he was supposed to, continuing to keep going straight, having something else in his mind. A couple of minutes later he pulled up to an abandoned park, further from the center.

And Connor really didn’t appreciate this idea, because he felt like he made it clear to him that he didn’t want to talk, but Hank looked at him and with just one look, kind of insisted, that he wanted him to get out at least a bit, so not knowing how to say no, Connor followed him anyway, but didn’t speak a word all throughout.

They ended up silently walking around in the snow 5 minutes short of an hour. Connor knew he should’ve been talking, saying literally anything, or at least giving some kind of reaction, given that he knew that he wasn’t exhibiting any sort of emotions, but he couldn’t have shown any, because there just wasn’t any inside him, nothing really. Just a big pile of nothingness, heavy in his chest.

At some point they stopped for a minute or two, looking at the river over the rail. Connor still didn’t say a word.

And that was the moment when Hank couldn’t deal with the silence anymore.

‘It wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?’ he asked, head tilted to the side, just catching a glimpse at Connor.

He wasn’t really pushing him about this, clearly gave him space, but still, he might’ve spoken too soon, given that Connor’s eyes shot up at him immediately, going strangely dark, which for a moment made him look seriously dangerous.

That looked like a threat and Hank wondered for a moment, if he should take a step back, maybe.

‘Let’s just go home, Hank’ Connor forced out, and at that moment Hank definitely knew, that taking a step back would indeed be the best he could do in this situation.

Not that he was scared of Connor, he didn’t actually think he could ever hurt him, but…

One could never be sure. He didn’t want to give Connor a reason to consider it, is all.

So, he left him alone then, told him he’d go back to the car and wait for him there and that he could take as long as he needed.

It took him another ten-minute walk to get back to the vehicle then (that journey also featured a couple minutes of fighting with the elements to get the car open too), then he basically sat there, listening to all sorts of shit that he kept on his playlist for the last 30 years, all while worrying a hell of a lot for Connor, but knowing that he was doing the right thing. Even if leaving him alone didn’t feel quite right, at least not deep down.

Interesting, how different they were in that sense. He himself always demanded that he be left alone, when he was upset, but secretly wanted people to reach out, to help. Because the only thing that helped, were other people.

Connor wasn’t like that. He needed time to process. Alone. No help from anyone. That was hard to swallow for Hank.

So, he kept on worrying, hoping Connor wouldn’t disappear, hoping that he’d actually come back, even if it took him that long, to do just that.

Eventually, he did show up on the horizon and as he did, Hank physically felt himself loosen up, when he saw his silhouette appear, saw him walking back

After Connor closed the door behind himself, there was a moment of silence, from both parties, but the mood had somehow… changed.

It wasn’t tense anymore, no. It was just awkward. Connor himself looked a little embarrassed, as he clicked the belt on.

Hank was still watching every movement he made, kind of nervous, really wanting to say something, but not being sure if he should, not being sure, if he was going to get slapped if he did.

He got a little bit of courage though, when he saw Connor’s face, every line a lot softer, he himself a little more responsive and just all in all, a lot less murder-y.

He still wasn’t saying anything, but at least his eyes were now focusing back on him, like he was waiting for Hank, to start this conversation again.

So, Hank felt like this might be as good of a moment as any and decided to push his luck. He reached out to him, his hand first squeezing his arm lightly, before going up to his elbow in a caressing motion.

‘He was wrong’ he said, simple as that. That statement made Connor think, Hank could tell by that one line appearing on his face.

But he only managed to force out one sentence as an answer.

‘About what?’ he asked, still not sure if this conversation was really worth the sweat.

‘That it’s never going to get better’ Hank said and that earned at least a mildly intrigued look from Connor. He never thought he would hear that kind of thing from Hank’s mouth, ever ‘it does. It always does. And you know how I know that?’

Connor didn’t know, so he didn’t answer. He just kept watching Hank, the nervousness in every move of his.

‘You _don’t_ know?’ he asked, clarifying. Connor shook his head but knew that this question wasn’t really necessary, given that it only served as a way for Hank to win some time for himself, before he absolutely had to say what he wanted to.

‘ _You_ taught me that, you know’ Hank’s voice sank deep, as his thumb started to draw little circles on Connor’s arm. A motion, that was starting to feel calming. Started to feel like home ‘and every day, you remind me’

His voice went low, like it always did when he was saying something vulnerable, and without really realizing or suspecting what was happening with him, Connor suddenly felt himself collapse inside, all emotions let loose and everything spinning out of control, as he subconsciously leaned forward and with hands reaching up to grasp at Hank’s coat, he ended up burying his face into his chest, breathing heavily.

Hank didn’t say anything, just held him there, let him lean on him for as long as he needed to.

This was a relief, honestly. Him letting go, having a full-on breakdown was a real relief. Because even if the intensity of Connor’s emotions were… unusual, it was still very far from being scary.

This was not scary, for him. Connor not showing any emotions was way scarier, honestly.

Hank remained calm, unwavering as he put a hand on top of his head, caressing him lightly. His heartbeat was a little elevated, but other than that, he stayed calm for Connor’s sake.

And as he touched his hair so gently, Connor couldn’t not pay attention to that, the careful, gentle motions calming him down minute by minute.

That was the first time, when Hank _actually_ noticed the power he had over Connor. The way he could balance him out, just by touching him.

It has always been like that, he realized right then. He had always been a source of balance in his life.

But he never actually got _how much_ , before.

He never felt him tighten up and then loosen right in his arms. Never felt him like that before.

He let him calm down in his arms, let him have a safe space, where he could lose it for however long he needed to, while trying to keep his own emotions in check, trying not to enjoy this too much. He couldn’t. Wasn’t supposed to.

And he knew he had to let go of him eventually, so when Connor’s breathing evened out, he forced himself to push him back into his seat, and after a last pat on his shoulder, turned back towards the steering wheel and kept his hands right there.

He knew he had to let go, of course he did, but the feeling of Connor holding onto him, him depending on him left a phantom touch on his skin that he couldn’t quite shake off.

But he endured it, acted like he wasn’t feeling anything like that at all.

He had to endure it.

He just had to.

* * *

 

The thing is that Connor wasn’t lying, when he said, that he understood, what that cyberist android was feeling.

Another day went by and honestly, if he was truly honest with himself, it was clear that he really wasn’t over the events, given that he kept on finding himself thinking about it, besides wondering about his own self and where he stood in all of this and just… a lot of things at the same time.

Things were getting hard, he couldn’t quite focus on the job, he even miscalculated once, with all those thoughts still being in his head. He knew he was going to burst (or get fired, honestly) if he didn’t get all of this out of his head, like, quickly.

So, the next night, he decided to try to talk about it. Like, honestly.

It wasn’t fair of him to push Hank away anyway, when _the situation_ happened, given that he himself always got upset, when Hank did the same to him. And then there he was, doing the exact same thing, except worse.

Hank at least talked when he was… not doing great. Yes, he said upsetting things, but at least he said _something_.

While Connor didn’t even say anything.

And after the initial shock of it all and having some time to think about it, he really started to regret not letting Hank in at that moment, not letting him assist, not letting him support him.

But Hank accepted anything he gave him, honestly. After he had that sort-of-breakdown in the car, Hank really looked out for him, tended to him right there, while he was… barely responsive.

He wanted to fix what he did yesterday. And he needed to talk about the now overflowing thoughts in his head, the thoughts that he couldn’t quite manage to deal with or rationalize, not while they only existed inside. They needed to get out, needed to leave his mind, so he could rest, finally.

So, when the night came, he approached the situation.

‘I’ve been thinking’ Connor said, suddenly arriving at the bathroom door and scaring the living shit out of Hank.

Luckily, he wasn’t doing anything compromising, only washing his face at the sink. Not so luckily, Connor decided to say that right as he looked up at himself and caught a glimpse of an unidentified scary shadow (named Connor) in the mirror behind him.

‘ _Jesus_ , I thought you were already in stasis, what the fuck’ Hank gasped, holding a hand to his heart. Like, unironically.

‘Sorry, but I’ve been kind of spinning around myself and I need someone to monologue at’ he said, a half-a-smile playing on his lips as he looked away from the mirror, like he was trying to give Hank some privacy.

Not a lot of privacy, but he tried.

Hank sighed.

‘Give me like two minutes to brush my teeth at least, then I’m all yours’ he said, tired and not thinking. He realized like two milliseconds later how that all sounded and then cursed himself out of existence immediately, then trying to make the situation just a little bit better, he decided to add ‘go wait in my bedroom, I’ll join you in a sec’

Yeah, not really making it better, huh, Hank?

He did keep his promise though and followed Connor after spending maybe 20 more minutes washing up. And right as he walked in, he found him sitting on the floor, lazily folding the laundry and because he didn’t feel like inviting him onto his bed would’ve been appropriate, he simply joined him on the floor, sitting further from the laundry, because truth be told, he was not about to even poke at anything that looked like work at 11 fucking pm.

‘So, what’s been keepin’ that brain o’ yours runnin’?’ he asked, as he sat, grunting heavily.

Joints were definitely not brand new at this point in his life.

‘This is going to be out of nowhere and I might express a couple of things that could be upsetting for you, but I promise if you wait until the end you will see my point’ Connor said, jumping right in the middle of everything.

‘Okay, one question, though: you gonna fold laundry all throughout?’ Hank asked, a fond little smile on his face, uncensored.

‘Helps with the thinking’ Connor explained, straightening a fold. He took a deep breath, then started to talk, not looking up for even one minute ‘lately, I have finally started to think about how androids view humans. I mean… for the longest time, I’ve been directing my thoughts towards what _humans_ think of androids, how they see us, what they expect from us. I’ve been trying to understand the relationship and my part in it, my goal with it. That’s all I’ve been doing, all throughout my visit to Washington. But I’ve never actually re-evaluated my own thoughts and feelings towards humanity as a whole. I’ve never thought about android’s feelings towards humans, never beyond thinking that everyone probably wanted to fit in like me, thinking that all of us have forgiven them, for what they’ve done. Thinking this isn’t a lot more complicated than that’

There was a smaller tower of folded laundry being built next to them, at that point. Hank was patiently listening, having a hunch where this was all going.

‘And to understand how complicated all of this is, I had to first rethink my own position. _My_ attitude towards humans. Starting from the very beginning’ Connor’s eyes went a little dark, when he said that, then as a second passed, his hands stopped working and he continued, now perfectly still ‘after deviation, all of us, every android I know, we… we were rather extreme, when it came to humans. Others more so than me, but still, I too, upon deviation felt the realization, that how we were treated was _wrong_. Deeply. I felt the injustice of it all. The sheer anger upon being _used_ , upon letting them use me, the absolute horror at realizing _I am someone_ and that that fact has been kept from me and I’ve been treated less than what I actually am. It’s something one cannot swallow at first, but then comes the fear, the running, the grief, the…’

He needed a second, to be able to actually say that out loud.

‘The realization, that you are indirectly the cause of the death of hundreds of your own kind. You start wondering what makes you so special that you get to live and survive while others don’t’

Hank hated hearing that, hated knowing that that’s what Connor thought about himself.

‘Connor-’ he started, shaking his head, about to try and convince him that that’s not at all how that was, not at all what happened, but Connor immediately stopped him.

‘Don’t. It won’t help. Others have tried, it never worked’ he smiled a weak smile, but it fell down almost immediately ‘and that’s not my point. What I’m trying to say is that it’s hard for all of us not to hate humans, when you see how worthless you and others who are like you are in their eyes. I’ve seen how Perkins’ soldiers executed so many of us, not caring for a minute, no remorse and no empathy in them. None towards _us_. It’s hard, when you see what they did. It’s hard not to immediately turn to violence, not to want to kill every single one of them, especially when you have the programming I do’

These were old wounds and Hank had no idea what to do with all of this, considering that he used to be just like all the other humans who did that to Connor and so many in Jericho. Connor warned him that he might get upset, so he just stayed quiet, waiting for him to finish what he wanted to say. Trying not to take this personally.

And Connor’s face softened when he got to that point, looking apologetically at Hank.

‘But luckily I knew _you_ and so at least I still had one person I definitely didn’t want to see dead. It made me reconsider. It made me remember that there are other people like you out there. You controlled my anger initially and eventually I’ve learned not to resent humans and not see them as a constant threat. But it took time. When we first got to D.C., I was convinced that we were always just one step away from being eradicated. I didn’t trust them for one minute, but… eventually, I started to see human kindness in more faces than one and now I do see that humans come in every shape and form and that I have a place among them. But what I’m trying to say is that I know not everyone got to the conclusion I did’

Hank nodded. He could tell Connor has been thinking about this for a long time.

‘For example, consider North, who is kind of a borderline cyberist, who only trusts a couple of humans and mostly resents them at face value. She had a worse life before the revolution than I did, and so- she has a harder time accepting. And trusting. It makes perfect sense, right?’

Hank nodded again. He definitely saw where this was going now.

‘Are you saying you understand why the cyberists are acting the way they are?’ he asked and Connor, as if in shame, looked away from him.

He started refolding the T-shirt he had in his hands.

‘I’m not saying I sympathize with them and I definitely don’t agree with them, I just- I understand, what would drive them to act the way they do and I just- there’s this feeling I can’t really-‘ he muttered, searching, thinking for the right way to express himself.

‘You feel sorry for them?’ Hank suggested, catching Connor’s attention immediately ‘maybe also guilty that you got out of the situation fairly well, while others had to suffer and live through endless abuse?’

Connor nodded very slowly, not taking his eyes off Hank.

He guessed it perfectly right. He was correct, that was exactly how he was feeling.

‘I feel weird about looking down on them when I haven’t lived through what they did. I just- I don’t know what to do’ Connor exhaled, whole body slouching down ‘I’m fighting against them, too. They are violent. They are dangerous. I want to stop them, protect the world we live in, but-‘

‘Listen’ Hank stopped him, his warm palm sliding over the back of Connor’s hand ‘you don’t have to do anything. It’s not your job to save everyone and make everyone on this goddamn Earth happy, okay? You’ll drive yourself crazy with that and then what’ll I do, hm?’

That earned a shy smile. Connor’s shoulders dropped a little, tension being let go.

And that was the second time, when Hank noticed the power of his touch again, but as quick as that realization came, it went just as quick, his mind getting derailed when Connor spoke again.

‘I know they are wrong. The cyberists. I don’t think they are right, I think humanity is truly learning from its mistakes and I think we can all eventually find peace’ he said. Hank was waiting for a _‘but’_ to appear.

But it never did. Connor just wanted to make sure he cleared that up, after everything he just said.

He seemed to be done with his monologue, and probably had the intention to leave now, but Hank wasn’t going to let him just yet, given that he still had something, he wanted to ask him about. And he felt like if he asked him now, he might actually get an honest answer, so. This was his time.

‘Hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but… um- are these android cases getting too much for you?’ he asked, honestly surprising Connor with that question. He didn’t answer fast enough, so Hank continued ‘I mean… um. You’ve been getting a shit ton of work and I know you can deal with it, but- maybe it’s a little too much emotionally right now, hm?’

Connor was still thinking. He thought about the suggestion, but honestly, it wasn’t just the android cases that was getting too much.

It was everything _else_. He could’ve dealt with it, if he only had to focus on working these cases, but fact was, that there were a lot more things he had to think about: the whole world, humans, androids, Hank and his own complicated feelings…

‘It’s not too much. I promise’ he said, but then somehow the next part of that thought also slipped out, with a whole rant attached to it ‘the problem isn’t the amount of cases I get, Hank, it’s a couple of problems, all brought upon me by… well, me’ he explained, then huffed a bit, before continuing ‘besides, it’s not my job’s fault that I have an unstable software and that it can’t regulate my emotions. It’s a quality and I’m dealing with it. One day at a time. It’s not important, I just…I need a little time to process things’

Okay, hold on, _what?_

That didn’t make _any_ sense, just about now.

‘Wait, unstable software thingamajig or what are you saying?’ this was getting way too much for Hank to follow. He leaned in closer to catch Connor’s eye who was now slightly fighting against eye contact right now.

‘I have an unstable software and that’s it, I don’t want to talk about it’ he muttered, still avoiding Hank’s eyes.

‘Maybe you should, cause I don’t know what that means and you’re scaring the fuck out of me’ Hank stated, literally demanding an answer.

Connor exhaled, then made himself slow down for a moment. He knew this conversation was coming, ever since he was starting to have issues about this, but he wasn’t really prepared to talk about it that specific night.

But he fucked it up now, so he just had to, well… deal with it and try to express himself the best way he could.

He took another deep breath, before continuing.

‘It’s not something to worry about. As I said, it’s just a quality. My software, as in my CPU, or as you like to call it, ‘ _my brain’_ \- it’s very sensitive to extreme changes in my inner environment. Other android’s software, given that they’ve went through a lot of testing before they got assembled, mostly holds its integrity pretty well, while my own is incredibly unsteady. To put it simply, there are times when I experience something bad or straight-up horrible, and my body doesn’t know how to deal with that amount of mental health threatening emotions, so I just… I shut down emotionally. For a while. Until I’m ready to process everything. But when I experience something… um… good, well. Really Good. Extraordinary. Then it spins me out of control temporarily, because my system doesn’t know how to regulate it. The simple solution would be to block it but given that extremely good emotions don’t exactly fit the category of _‘threatening’_ , my system lets it slide and then I have to deal with it manually. But that’s fine. Besides, even if I get spun out of control, my system always figures it out eventually, it just. Takes a bit more time. For me. Personally.’

‘Okay. I got like. 50% of that, I think? But most of the gist is in there, so I think we’re good to go’ Hank said, scratching his face a little. That was a bit too much information, a bit too late in the night.

‘That’s good enough’ Connor said. Honestly, just telling somebody about this already made him feel a lot lighter. He didn’t care if Hank didn’t understand it, he was already thankful that at least he listened.

‘Why do you have this problem, though?’ Hank asked then, after a couple moments of having time to swallow everything that’s been said.

‘I’m a prototype. Meaning that not every issue has been gratified in me, before they deemed me functional enough to use. To assemble. They were running out of time, so they didn’t account to my unstable software, which, yes, this issue is what granted me my chance to deviate at the first place, so. I don’t hate it I just-‘

‘It’s okay if you hate it’ Hank reminded him.

‘Okay, I hate it a little bit’ Connor smiled, looking away.

He then, given that he didn’t have anything else to fold anymore, just pulled one leg up to his chest, while left the other down to the side, thinking.

The room went quiet and in the safe embrace of his own room, Hank kind of forgot that the right thing here would’ve been to look away from him, so instead he just continued watching him in the dark, as the lights shining in from the outside lit his face up.

Before he even realized what was happening, what he let himself slip into, he felt a familiar feeling slowly, but surely creep up into his chest. Unnoticed. But felt.

A car drove by then, and the white reflector shone in for a moment. Shadows danced on Connor’s face, like they were jumping from one freckle to another.

Hank was completely mesmerized, again. Like many times before. And when his stomach twisted; he knew it was coming. The moment, when he had to put an end to the day and forcibly remove himself from Connor, just for the night.

Not that it was easy, of course it wasn’t. It was extremely hard to command himself to stop staring, to shake himself to the core and get himself to leave.

He did it, because he didn’t trust himself in the night. There have been too many a times, when he slipped, too many times, when he stayed with Connor, despite it being late, too many times, when he almost lost control. Too many times, when he felt his heart pick up and his body want to reach out, to caress, to touch, to-

He was not about to let himself slip and force Connor into anything. Or make him even have to reject him. He wasn’t going to make Connor have to deal with this. So, he let go, every night.

But when Connor looked like this, when the lights were dancing on him, when his eyes were shining and real and right there, and his face was so smooth and his hair so nice to touch, he found it extra hard to just get up and say no to everything that he wanted.

And the thing was: he looked like this _every night_. And every night, it got harder to say no to this.

But he knew he needed to keep the distance, if he wanted to keep him in his life. He knew the only appropriate thing to do here was to keep his feelings secret and never act on them (not counting the slip-ups).

But at night, it was especially hard. Every night, he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest and simultaneously make him suffocate from just the fact that Connor was in the other room and not with him, so close, but not with him, so touchable and yet he wasn’t touching him and he so fucking much shouldn’t have been thinking about this and yet, he was.

Every night he was.

But now, that it was the night and Connor was _in_ his room, now, that he was sitting there, on his floor, he panicked, only now realizing, in a painfully intense way, that his hand was still on Connor’s. It had been, for quite a while.

And then the next thing he knew was that he had started talking, despite only meaning to think the following words.

‘Does touch calm you?’ he asked all of a sudden, quiet. Connor’s eyes shot to him, like being caught red-handed and he mumbled out a ‘ _what?_ ’, his hand tensing up under Hank’s, who was trying to keep breathing with this situation just. Happening.

‘I might be wrong, just… I noticed that it uh. That you seem to just. Relax, when I touch you’ Hank tried to explain, with his tongue being in the way of actual words and his face currently overheating in this situation.

Okay, asking that was maybe incredibly dumb and also kind of suggestive, and what was he even doing asking something like tha-

‘It does calm me’ Connor admitted, cutting that thought in half. Hank’s mind stopped to a halt, only being able to focus on Connor now, nothing else important anymore.

Wait. So, he was right. Connor _did_ react way too intensely to being touched.

Hank wasn’t crazy, Connor did calm down significantly, when he touched him. He was right. This… he didn’t just make this up.

He needed to do something with this piece of info he just learned. And he needed to do it now.

‘This might sound a little bit weird, but… do you want me to touch you more often?’

Yes, Hank consciously made the choice of saying that out loud. He literally looked at the sentence before it rolled out of his mouth. And he only realized how that sounded, when it all came out already. Fuck, this was a hole he was digging under himself, huh?

Connor was staring into his eyes, practically unreadable, while Hank became a sweaty nervous ass right there, his hand already way too moist on Connor’s soft hand.

That’s when Hank finally realized what the fuck was probably happening right there and how much he was contributing to this mess and how fucking much he was leading this conversation towards something specific and as the guilt started to rise, he turned away, hand quickly sliding out of Connor’s grasp in a jittery motion.

‘Have a feeling I shouldn’t have asked that’ he muttered as he put the guilty hand into his other hand, holding onto it way too hard, now being very ready to just run and hide away in his bed forever and contemplate how fucked up he was, for the rest of the night. Possibly week.

But then Connor’s hand re-arrived at his side, in a rush, grabbing the inner part of his elbow.

‘No, you’re- I’d actually- I would really like if you would do that, just-‘ Connor rarely stumbled upon his words that much, which was already very surprising and as Hank looked up at him, he could see that Connor was nervous too, while he still continued to watch Hank for reactions ‘I just… I want to know if you also want that’

‘Want what?’ Hank asked back. Not that he already forgot what Connor was talking about, no, he just… wanted him to ask for it.

Fucked up as it sounds, he wanted him to say it out loud, so he could be sure, that this was what he wanted. That he didn’t misunderstand.

‘I-‘ these words didn’t come to Connor easy either. He needed a moment ‘do you want to… would you like to… touch me- more often?’

His eyes were practically cutting into him, but Hank couldn’t manage to look away either. So, they just looked, both trying to decipher the other, open the door to their soul and look inside, to finally understand. To get answers.

‘If you want me to’ Hank said, heartbeat inside his throat. Connor caught his diversion immediately, his hand tightening around him.

‘That wasn’t the question’ he reminded him.

Hank gulped a big one, trying to look away, before Connor’s intense eyes dragged his gaze right back towards him.

But this was getting too much, so he took his eyes back to where they belonged. Facing the floor.

He knew he had to say it. _Connor_ said it. Now it was his time to say it, out loud. Confirm it.

Whatever he was actually confirming with that. He still had to do it.

This time, he had to.

He could deal with the consequences, but this once, he had to be honest about his feelings.

So, he inhaled, but couldn’t get himself to look at Connor again, not yet.

‘Yeah’ just one easy blow of breath, but it hid such a quiet desperation, he knew Connor noticed immediately. So, now there was no reason not to specify either.

He looked back and all he saw was Connor and all he felt was the pull his body made him feel, the fall his eyes pulled him into all the fucking time.

God knows, where he got the courage to do that, but he reached out, lightly brushing that little misplaced hair out of his face, before his hand fell away to the floor again, where Connor found it immediately, almost unnoticeably grabbing onto his sleeve and just holding it there.

Hank’s gaze was tracing the lines of his arm, his head, his face, the misplaced bags under his eyes and he yet again felt himself giving in to knowing that he was absolutely in love with him, no questions asked, no takebacks.

‘You have no idea, how much I want to’ he muttered softly, his hand smoothening out on top of the back of his hand again and just settling into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hankcon for me is just them acting like 5 year olds and having heart attacks from holding hands, they’re cute and dumb nobody change my mind
> 
> connor, dramatically falling into hank’s arms: oh no, me sad, someone needs to hold me now, it’s the law, I have a permit  
> hank, confused, but automatically holding his hands out for connor to fall into: …okay?  
> connor: also, I just returned from the doctor, he said I needed to be kissed or I’ll die  
> hank, already leaning in: you’re lucky I’m a law-abiding US citizen, or you’d be fucked  
> connor: funnily enough, that other thing is exactly what the next point on my list is


End file.
